Before The Dawn
by Lady Silvamord
Summary: Fifteen-year-old Sakura never expected to become a traitor to her village, but in a Konoha ruled by Danzou, she has no other choice. Finding her path entangling with the village's most infamous renegade, though, was another story entirely. ItaSaku AU.
1. Confrontations

_Before The Dawn_

_-_

_Sakura would never have expected to become a traitor to her village at the age of fifteen, but in a Konoha ruled by Danzou, she has no other choice. Finding her path entangling with one of her village's most infamous renegades, though, was another story entirely. [ItaSaku AU.]_

_This story works under the completely and blatantly alternate universe premise that, after Sakura and Naruto's team returned from the hunt for Itachi, they came home to find that in their absence, Danzou, Root, and many other sympathizers with their cause had overthrown and assassinated Tsunade, subdued all jounin who refused to swear loyalty to the new leadership, and subjugated Konoha to a state of near-military dictatorship._

_-_

_Chapter One: Confrontation_

_-_

Sakura had never really given much thought as to how she would die.

Which is really quite unreasonable, now that she thinks about it. For any shinobi, death could come at any time, at any place. Judging from her reaction – or lack thereof – right now, she is fairly certain that, maybe subconsciously, she had resigned herself to her eventual end a long time ago.

When, even she isn't sure. Maybe it had been during her first brush with death, as a mere genin on that mission to the Land of Waves. Maybe the realization had come later, as Ino held Sakura, while the two of them cried over Sakura's parents' bodies; it had been both of their first real, first-hand experiences with the inherently cruel nature of human mortality.

Sakura steps back a few paces, narrowly avoiding tripping over an exposed tree root. Her green eyes dart quickly through the clearing, cataloguing and analyzing her own position in relation to the three black-clad, faceless ANBU Root members that face her. Not for the first time, she tries to bring chakra to her fists, to her feet, or _anywhere,_ but it is a fruitless attempt. For somebody who has become so used to tapping into such an extensive resolve of unrivaled physical strength, this feeling of utter powerlessness is the worst kind of psychological battering that that her pursuers could ever give her.

"S-ranked chakra-sealing jutsu," Sakura murmurs under her breath, sharp mind frantically trying to remember any antidote to the forbidden technique, that Tsunade-shishou might have taught her, before…

But no. Tsunade had never taught her a way to counterattack this particular jutsu – after all, the counterattack is an S-ranked technique as well, and despite the talents that everybody says she has, Sakura is still a fifteen-year-old chunin who wouldn't even _need_ to know something that advanced. Not yet, anyway. Tsunade had mentioned it in passing, though, and told her apprentice that she would teach it to her immediately before her jounin exams.

Danzou had made sure that would never happen.

The first Root member moves with speed that she didn't even know was possible; in less time than it takes her to blink an eye, he is in front of her, and then Sakura is knocked back against a tree with the force of his back-handed slap. The impact feels like it had been enough to shatter her spine, and for a few moments, her vision goes black as she digs her fingernails into the bark of the tree, fighting to keep herself upright, even as she coughs, and dazedly notices a few drops of her own blood spattering onto the soil beneath her.

"Surrender," the closest one – and the leader of the elite hunting squad – instructs impassively. "Danzou-sama would prefer that you be returned to him alive, in any case."

In the next second, Sakura's punch collides squarely with his jaw. It is an impressive strike, considering that it is fueled by raw power alone; enough to send his head spinning to the right with a sickening crack. "Never," she hisses, backing away.

And, just like that, Sakura turns and runs, faster than she ever has before, even though her ribs catch and burn with every single movement, probably due to a few fractures sustained in the earlier chase. The dark forest tears past her, and she forgets her mission – the fees were just a few thousand ryou, anyway, and she can probably survive for about a week without food, thanks to the soldier pills that Inoichi had given her before she had left. Besides, the contractor had said that he had another missing-nin on the hunt for the target, as well, so let the other guy get the money, because right now, she has much more pressing concerns.

She dodges a shuriken by a fraction of an inch, but then, a wind jutsu – not unlike the one Temari of the Sand often uses – collides with her back, knocking her facefirst into yet another tree. This time, the blinding impact against the right side of her face is enough to send her crumpling bonelessly to her knees with a moan of pain. That had been a concussion, without doubt, and before she can do more than gasp for breath, an icy grip locks around her wrists, and drags her up to her feet, before throwing her front against the tree again, and twisting and pinning her arms mercilessly against her already bruised back.

The Root captain's breath is harsh against the back of her neck, and the point of one of his teammates' katanas rests squarely between her shoulder blades. Sakura considers kicking out, but it would be a blind hit, and if they even detected a twitch of muscle, the guy holding the katana to her back would cheerfully impale her. So she forces herself to stand still, and for a few moments, the only sounds in the clearing are that of her ragged breathing, and the easily audible pounding of her heart.

She cannot see anything but the shadowed bark of the tree in front of her, but Sakura feels the Root captain – the one she had punched earlier, so maybe that had been a mistake – lean down, brushing the sensitive skin on the top of her neck with his lips. "Excellent," he murmurs, while whoever is holding the katana inches the tip of the cold steel down her spine, almost teasingly. "After all, Danzou-sama explicitly instructed us to bring you back alive, if it proved to be possible."

"Go to hell," Sakura manages, through teeth that are gritted to keep them from trembling with fright.

With that, the captain presses her tighter against the tree, pinning her completely with his own weight, and Sakura bites her lip so hard that it almost bleeds, to keep from whimpering with the strain that this puts on her injured back, arms, and shoulders. Unconcerned, he lets his fingertips ghost up and down her exposed arms, and Sakura can't do anything to keep herself from shivering. "He warned us that you were going to be difficult," he says softly, trailing one of his fingers down the back of her neck, so that it slips down past the top of her sleeveless red vest. "You have no idea how frustrating the past six months have been."

Sakura closes her eyes, trying to overcome the chakra-suppressing seal with every ounce of strength that she possesses, before this already terrible situation can get any _worse,_ but then the third Root member, the only one that has remained silent for this entire time, speaks up. His voice is as emotionless as could be expected from a member of this despicable force, but Sakura can detect the thin note of strain in it. "Captain."

"Yes?" he replies politely, even though his grip on Sakura does not loosen in the least.

"Two unknown elements, rapidly approaching from the east," the third member reports quickly. "One is obviously in pursuit of the other. Judging from the presence of our missing-nin target, and another in the near vicinity, who are both apparently in pursuit of a third party, I would infer that we are in the midst of a hunting expedition."

Sakura tenses even further – these new arrivals _must_ be the other, unknown missing-nin whom the contractor had assigned to this mission…and the target, a renowned assassin from Sand.

The captain curses quietly at this unexpected and dangerous twist in his plans, and Sakura tries her best to twist around, but the leanly muscled weight of his body pinning hers renders it impossible. "We will retreat immediately – I have no desire to be caught in the midst of a battle between two rogue elements," he orders swiftly.

"The girl?" The katana-wielding Root member asks quietly, while he withdraws his sword. "By the time we properly subdue her, it may be too late to avoid a confrontation with the other two unknown factors."

Sakura closes her eyes for a moment, steeling herself for what she is about to do.

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

With her absolute last vestiges of strength, Sakura wrenches herself out of the captain's suffocating grip, despite the blinding pain in her ribs, back, and head, and for the second time that night, begins a desperate, pulse-pounding sprint due east – the suppressing seal is still binding her chakra, but she hadn't gone through pure speed training with Lee for nothing. It may be a suicidal exploit, but she has no intentions of letting herself fall into the hands of the Root hunters again.

There is the slightest flicker of movement in front of her, and deciding to save caution for later, Sakura skids to a halt, unearths her last kunai, and throws it at the disturbance, praying for accuracy, even as she hears the rapid approach of the Root team behind her. The foliage is much thicker in this area of the forest, and she stumbles as she tries to pinpoint the area she had thrown the kunai, while looking back and forth desperately. Maybe it's just the stress of the situation talking, but in the past six months of being a missing-nin, she has never felt this much like a hunted animal.

She hears a choked gasp of breath a little in front of her, and Sakura jumps over an exposed tree root and ducks behind an massive fallen oak tree, trying her best to follow the sound, even in the darkness of the night. In the end, she almost trips on the body; despite being a missing-nin, he still wears Sand's ANBU uniform, and in a sheer stroke of luck, her kunai had gone straight through his heart.

Horrified, she realizes that she is standing in a puddle of his blood, and it is covering her boots, and Sakura rips her gaze away from the dying man, hastily tripping her way deeper into the forest, even as she senses the Root members' chakra signatures immediately behind her.

"You're leading us right to you, little girl," the captain says loudly, and Sakura swallows over her dry throat and searing, pounding headache when she realizes just how close they are – separated from her only by two trees. Despite her best efforts, her breathing is fast and shallow as she walks backward, keeping her eyes trained on the approaching Root trackers. Her shoulders are shaking, and for a moment, she wildly considers stopping the attempt to escape, and standing and fighting…she has no doubt that they will slaughter her, but—

In the next moment, Sakura is pulled roughly behind a large, completely shadowed tree, and her first instinct is to scream – but before she can even inhale, she finds a cool hand pressed firmly against her mouth.

"If you have any desire to live, do not say a word," the voice instructs coolly, although he is so quiet that Sakura has to strain to hear him – for the smooth tenor is unmistakably masculine, and familiar in a way that she can't place – over the frightened pounding of her own heart. She nods once, hypersensitive of the presence of the Root members, only a few feet away, and whoever it is slides his hand from over her mouth to hold her in place, wrapping both of his arms around her waist. It is a firm but not unpleasantly tight grip, and Sakura lets her head fall back against his chest, her muscles quivering with barely repressed tension. She closes her eyes in order to attempt to come to grips with the blinding, white-hot stabs of pain in her head where the Root captain had thrown her against the tree, but it is no use.

In a marked contrast to Sakura's own, near-panicked state, she can feel the other missing-nin's calm, steady heartbeat pressed against her own right shoulder, which is reassuring in a perverse kind of way, especially when she senses that he is using his chakra to flawlessly cloak both of their presences. Then she understands the motivation for his actions – if the Root team happened upon her at any point during this night, they would be certain to find him as well, considering that all of them are in such close vicinity of each other.

Sakura has to bite her already-bruised lip in order to force her breathing to steady as the Root squad passes within a few feet of them, before continuing deeper into the forest, heading west – toward the direction of the nearest town.

Within the space of five tense minutes, their chakra signatures fade into nothing, and Sakura's knees almost buckle with relief, as the other male's arms unwrap themselves from around her waist. She takes a few deep breaths, steadying herself, before she opens her eyes and turns around to face her unlikely savior—

—And finds herself staring up into a pair of dark crimson eyes that she hasn't seen in months.

Sakura's heart rate, which had just begin to calm, starts up again at an alarming speed, and she retreats from the other missing-nin as fast as she can, despite her weakened state. "…Sasuke-ku—_Sasuke?_" she asks in a whisper, aghast, as she shakes her head hard, in a desperate attempt to clear it, because there is no way, there really has to be no way…

The man across from her raises one eyebrow in slight amusement, even as he surveys the battered kunoichi in front of him thoughtfully. "Not quite."

The concussion is making her perilously unsteady on her feet, but despite the disorientation, she can still think and draw the proper conclusions (but there are really not many conclusions to draw anyway, because there is only one other person on this earth who could look so much like Sasuke), but when the realization hits her, Sakura turns even paler than before. She backs away even further, only to find herself cornered against yet another tree, as she remembers the last mission that Tsunade had ever assigned her, with a sense of dawning horror. "This isn't right," she shakes her head slowly, disbelievingly. "You're not supposed to be – but you were…"

Sakura trails off, half-believing that this is just a hallucination brought on by the severity of her concussion, because there could be no way that a dead man is standing right in front of her, talking, breathing, _alive._

Itachi Uchiha cannot help but smirk humorlessly as he takes in the stunned expression on the younger kunoichi's face. "Dead?" he suggests evenly. "Yes."

Sakura is fully aware that her life has honestly become nightmarish beyond belief in the past eight months, but this is really, _really_ pushing it, and she trips over a low-hanging vine as she frantically attempts to extricate herself from her inconveniently cornered location. First there had been Danzou's takeover and Tsunade's death and then Naruto going into hiding with Jiraiya, and then Kakashi-sensei's disappearance, not to mention being Sakura herself being forced to betray everything that she had once believed in by going missing-nin in order to escape Danzou's machinations…

And, of course, the past six months as a renegade have been hard _enough,_ until now, when inexplicably enough, she has just found herself rescued by the most infamous – and, apparently, recently recruited into the leagues of the _undead –_ Akatsuki member and Konoha missing-nin in history.

Itachi merely arches an eyebrow again upon being faced with the pink-haired kunoichi's tangible fear and distress, and before she can even blink – and for the _second_ time today; this is getting really old – he is in front of her, and with a casual flick of his left wrist, a veritable wall of his chakra secures Sakura back against the tree.

Her complete lack of chakra, concussion, fractured ribs and thoroughly bruised spine aside, Sakura immediately starts to struggle against the invisible force that pins her down. "What the hell?" she shrieks at the infuriatingly impassive man, as she is too physically pained and disturbed to necessarily care that this particular individual has probably killed others for giving him considerably less provocation than this. _Hell,_ Sakura thinks miserably, even as she futilely tries to rip her way out of the chakra barrier, _if I had known that _this_ was what I was going to run into after trying to escape, I would have stayed with the Root hunters. _"Let me _go_!"

Itachi narrows his crimson eyes at the girl, obviously displeased with her show of temper, before stepping even closer to her, and despite her best efforts to be _brave,_ Sakura closes her eyes quickly and flinches back against the tree, expecting the strike that is coming and knowing that she can do nothing to counteract it.

Instead, Itachi reaches forward, only to lightly draw the calloused tip of his index finger along the length of the deep gash across the emblem on her forehead protector, with an expression on his face that could almost amount to curiosity. Upon hearing the light pull of his purple-painted fingernail against metal, Sakura cracks an eye open, looking shocked at the almost gentle contact. Still, she tries her best to fight her head away from his touch, struggling against the restraining barricade of chakra. "Don't touch me," she says heatedly, trying her best to make her voice achieve some semblance of calm, even as she determinedly fixes her gaze on a distant point somewhere behind his left shoulder; after all, she has no desire to find out whether undead shinobi can still utilize their bloodline limits.

She doubts that it had anything to do with her words, but he withdraws his hand from her forehead, anyway. "I will release you," Itachi tells her quietly, and she feels his soft breath (_are the undead even supposed to breathe? _Inner Sakura asks her, intrigued) lightly stir the pink hair near the top of her head. He is more than a head taller than her – she only comes up to his collarbone – and Sakura resents the extreme proximity; she does not like feeling so physically cornered. "After you answer some questions for me," he murmurs.

Sakura actually pales even further at this, and wonders if she has enough guts to tell him that Tsunade-shishou had taught her a _lot_ of things, but nothing that remotely involved un-zombifying crazy psychopaths who were blatantly violating the fundamental laws of mortality.

Sakura dares to look up at him, then, to find Itachi staring down at her, and she realizes then that she is even more frightened by him now than she had been when Naruto, Kakashi-sensei, and herself had battled one of his projections when Itachi had attempted to detain them from finding Gaara. And that is definitely saying something.

…Okay, so she does _not_ have enough guts to crack a bad joke about his apparently zombified state.

"…Fine," Sakura acquiesces, after a few more moments of thought, because she has no illusions about what he will do to her otherwise. Actually, she doesn't even want to think about it.

Itachi's eyes gleam a clear blood-red in satisfaction, and Sakura can't help but swallow slightly.

Yeah, the past eight months of her life have been the stuff of nightmares, but Sakura has that unsettling, creepy, chills-down-her-spine feeling that things are only going to get worse from here.

Her inner self, which has always been somewhat lacking in dignity, cringes into the depths of Sakura's consciousness rather than risk facing Itachi. _Oh, Sakura-chan, you have no idea how right you are. _

As if he is reading her mind, a slight smirk touches one corner of Itachi's lips.

Sakura winces, and decides that everything would have been a lot better if she had just never gotten out of bed this morning.

* * *

_to be continued_

* * *

Okay, first of all, I know that a lot of people are going to ask me why the _hell_ I'm posting a new chaptered story when I'm supposed to be busy working on the final installment of Heartless. But the past week has been really, really rough for me, because I'm going through a lot of major personal problems right now…and I really couldn't bring myself to think of or write something happy and humorous, even though I tried. I'm sorry, guys. I'll try to work through my issues and get back on track in a timely fashion.

Anyway, on to the current issue at hand. I know the story is a bit vague at this point, and if you have any questions, feel free to ask in a review and I will definitely reply, but all kinds of important things will become clearer over the next few chapters. Including, but not limited to, whether Itachi is really "undead" or "zombified", or if that's just poor Sakura's concussion speaking. :D

Any and all feedback would be very much appreciated. :)


	2. Revelations

_As always, thank you so very much to everybody who was kind enough to review. :)_

_-_

_Chapter Two: Revelations_

_-_

Sakura fidgets uncomfortably.

Itachi just stares at her, either completely unaware – or completely unconcerned – about her tangible discomfort.

"Um…" she says, at last. "I'll talk _after_ you let me go."

Sakura does not think that it is an unreasonable demand by any means; after all, most people would prefer _not_ to carry on lengthy conversations while being suffocatingly restrained against a tree, by a wall of chakra that feels like it weighs at least four times as much as she does. Despite this, Itachi just raises an eyebrow at her wordlessly, as if telling her that she should know better.

Sakura glares at him balefully, knowing that her physical wounds are very much visible. "Look," she points out, trying to be reasonable, "it's not like I can exactly run all that far in my state, you know."

At this, Itachi regards the kunoichi appraisingly, taking note of the remarkable array of bruises that cover her face, a cut on the front of her forehead that is slowly seeping blood, and the tentative movements that could suggest some form of mild internal injury or bruising. Not to mention that she still seems to be dangerously unsteady on her feet, and he sighs minutely, knowing that she will be easy prey if she does, indeed, attempt an escape. "Very well."

He releases the wall of chakra at once, and completely without warning; Sakura hadn't realized that it had been the only thing keeping her upright for the past few minutes, and without its support, she falls back against the tree limply, her knees still trembling. The chakra-sealing jutsu is beginning to dissolve within her bloodstream, but she doesn't think that she will be fully able to heal herself for another few hours, at least, which could prove to be a major inconvenience.

"Why?" Itachi asks abruptly.

Sakura blinks at him and rubs her forehead, still somewhat disoriented. "…What?"

He indicates the slash across her forehead protector with his gaze. "Over the past few months, we have noticed a rather dramatic increase in the numbers of Konoha missing-nin," Itachi replies, at length. "…Interestingly enough, the majority of them seem to be in your immediate age group. It is a fascinating trend."

"It's not a _trend_," Sakura retorts at once, her right hand instinctually curling into a fist. "We didn't have a choice!"

Itachi eyes her dispassionately, unaffected by her display of emotion. "There is always a choice."

Sakura looks away from him, the anger coursing through her veins doing nothing to alleviate her headache. "Not necessarily," she mumbles.

"If you insist," Itachi deadpans. "In that case, why have so many of your generation _chosen_ to become traitors to their beloved village?"

The question recaptures Sakura's full attention, distracting her from the pain of the concussion, and she glances back at him quickly, disbelief slowly taking over her features. "You didn't _know_?"

Itachi makes a small sound of irritation in the back of his throat. "Obviously, kunoichi."

Not caring that she is probably testing his patience, Sakura looks up at him incredulously, wondering if he had just been resurrected yesterday. "…How long have you been back, then?" she blurts, too confused to be a little more tactful.

Itachi actually blinks at the nonsensical question, before deciding to amount it to the girl's head injury. "Answer me, kunoichi," he bites out, his icy tone leaving no room for argument.

"Fine," Sakura hisses, giving him a glare that is positively dripping with resentment. "Around nine months ago, Tsunade-shishou became aware that Sasuke had defected from Sound in order to find a team to hunt you. She knew that wherever we could find _you_, Sasuke wouldn't be far behind. So she gave eight of us – including myself – a mission to track you, and by extension, Sasuke, down."

Itachi simply raises an eyebrow, somewhat intrigued by his role in all of this. "Continue."

"So, we followed yours and Sasuke's trails," Sakura replies, looking up into the starry night sky. "Long story short, when we thought we finally had a lock on Sasuke's location, we were too late to find him. Kakashi-sensei said that somebody had taken him, after – after he had killed you." And she fixes an accusing glare on the very not-dead man in front of her, before taking a deep, steadying breath and preparing herself for what is to follow.

"And, after a couple of weeks of travel, we returned to Konoha…" Sakura trails off, and even eight months after the fact, she still has to wrap her arms around herself to keep from shaking at the memories. "Danzou," she says abruptly. "While we were gone, he staged a coup. Apparently he had been planning it for years, and was just _waiting_ for an opportunity like that one."

"Ah," Itachi comments evenly; a distant memory surfaces, of dinner at the Uchiha compound nearly a decade earlier – his father and mother had been talking in an undertone about Danzou's scheming nature, and the ill-kept secret of his various plots to assume control over Konoha. "That explains the presence of the Root team." Taking a look at the shaken girl in front of him, he can probably guess the fate of her mentor, but he asks, just to be sure. "The Godaime Hokage?"

"Assassinated," Sakura says shortly, looking down at her feet and blinking rapidly. "And then he…subdued…all of the jounin he thought were too close to her inner circle…which were a lot of our jounin-sensei. Gai-sensei managed to fight off the Root guards that imprisoned him, within the first week, and he left Konoha – he was the first one. Then, he helped Lee and Tenten escape; they would have taken Neji with them, but _he_'s issued a military order that sequesters all clan members to their respective compounds, under pain of death."

She spits the words out, and they are bitter in her mouth – the decree had been the only thing preventing Ino, Shikamaru, and Chouji, her three other closest friends in Konoha, from accompanying her, and the kami knew that this whole hellish experience would have been a lot more livable if she hadn't been forced to go through it alone. Ino, Shika, and Chouji had been fully prepared to defy the confinement mandate and sneak out of the village anyway, but she had begged them not to; if they had, their fathers would have taken the fall for their defiance, and she didn't want that.

"Interesting," Itachi observes in an undertone, thinking of the Konoha that Danzou would operate – knowing the man's nature, it would be even more corrupt than the original. "What are his intentions?"

Sakura glares at him again. "It's not _interesting,_ it's a travesty. It's the cruel disintegration of everything that was once…" Her passion deserts her, all of a sudden, and the light goes out of her eyes as she leans back against the tree, defeated. "Home. And, I mean, he's always wanted to be Hokage – he's ruined everything that we held dear for power, what else?"

Itachi is less-than-convinced by this idealistic assessment. "Where is the vessel?" he inquires, rightly concluding that a man like Danzou would do anything and everything to abuse the power of the Kyuubi that Naruto Uzumaki holds within him.

Sakura blinks, confused for a moment. "Vessel? What vesse—_oh._" The cold disdain in her voice is evident, as she gives Itachi a look of the deepest distaste. "He's a human being, you know, not a thing. A _container._ He's my best friend."

"What an utterly endearing sentiment," Itachi says, bored. "Let me reiterate – where is the vessel, girl?"

"He has a name!" Sakura fairly snarls, and Itachi offhandedly observes that at this slightest, rather unlikely provocation, she suddenly looks livid enough to throw herself at him and attempt to scratch his eyeballs out. As she is already injured and low on chakra, though, she settles for merely looking at him as if he is the scum of the earth. "…And so do I, as a matter of fact," she adds angrily.

"Very well," and despite himself, Itachi is amused at the violence of her reaction; with the exception of Deidara, he has never come across anybody quite so…expressive. "Where is Naruto, _Sakura_? I can only assume that Danzou would have attempted to use him for his own purposes as soon as he returned to the village with your team…"

Sakura crosses her arms rebelliously. "Why should I tell _you_?" she asks bitterly. "You're the one who's been hunting him for the past three years."

A ghost of a smirk flickers across Itachi's face as he decides to use her own earlier words against her. "Oh, so you didn't know?"

Sakura doesn't rise to the bait; she suddenly stills in her nervous pacing as she begins to envision a million horrible scenarios and things that could have gone wrong in the eight months since she has seen Naruto. "…What?" she asks slowly, the color draining from her face.

"In light of recent events, the Akatsuki has changed a few of its ultimate goals," Itachi deadpans.

In that moment, Sakura thinks that she actually forgets to breathe. "Like _what_? Why?" she demands, hoping beyond hope that they have ceased their quest to obtain all of the Jinchiruuki in order to do something _else_ that's evil and horrible, but won't affect her and Naruto on such a personal level—

"That is none of your concern," Itachi replies smoothly.

For a few moments, he thinks that the little pink-haired kunoichi is actually going to have an aneurism upon hearing his noncommittal answer – all the physical signs are there. But then, right before his eyes, something changes; her hand uncurls itself from its fist and her eyes widen with some sort of dawning realization, while her entire posture changes into one of relaxation. "Oh, kami," Sakura breathes softly. "It broke, didn't it? Tsunade-shishou was always _telling_ me that it was bound to, soon – that the statue containing the bijuu was ancient and so fragile it couldn't even have weathered a really strong storm, let alone one well-executed S-ranked elemental jutsu…"

The girl may be irritatingly emotional, yes, but Itachi has to admit that, to come to the correct conclusion so quickly, she must be rather bright underneath that outrageously fragile and impractical exterior. He offers her no indication of the accuracy of her theory, but Sakura smiles triumphantly. "Who was it?"

He just stares at her for a few moments, before deigning to respond. "…A Root team, strangely enough."

Itachi has the rather uncomfortable feeling that the kunoichi is itching to light a victory bonfire and dance around it, before somehow digging up Hidan's bones and throwing them into the flames as a sacrificial offering, and then, of course, sprinting across all five countries in an attempt to track down her hideously orange-clad 'best friend' and share the happy news. Thankfully, she seems to be restraining himself for his sake, so, having received the answers he came for – at least now he has an understandable reason as to why the competitive market of the private sector has suddenly been unpleasantly overwhelmed by newly-minted and unfortunately, passably competent Konoha renegades – Itachi merely turns around, fully intending to slink back into the shadows and disappear into the night.

"Wait!"

He hadn't been expecting that; Itachi turns back to the girl, and she walks forward a few paces, easily bridging the distance between them. Sakura feels a little lightheaded in her relief – after everything that has gone so horribly wrong in the past eight months, the news that Naruto will finally be safe (from the Akatsuki, at least), is a welcome reprieve. "How did you do it?" she asks quietly, glancing up at him.

Itachi blinks, momentarily nonplussed. "Do…what?"

Sakura brushes a blood-matted lock of hair behind her ear sheepishly, hoping beyond hope that this does not make her sound like a raving lunatic. "Become – well – _undead._"

There are a few moments of utter silence in the moonlit clearing.

Itachi stares at Sakura as if she is a raving lunatic. "Undead."

Sakura fidgets self-consciously, suddenly becoming aware of how downright bizarre and surreal the past six months have been – and it just keeps getting worse, apparently. "Well. Yes."

Kami, and here he had thought the girl might have been _intelligent._ Still, Itachi cannot fully get over the shock, as his normally razor-sharp and utterly focused mind is still inundated with strange images from those pathetic zombie and vampire movies that Kisame had insisted that they watch on their rare nights off.

"I thought you were intelligent, girl," Itachi says at last, still unable to get past his initial reaction.

Predictably enough, Sakura bristles at the insult – the only two things in the world that she absolutely _cannot stand _are when people insult Naruto, which is something Itachi has done already, and when people belittle the abilities that she has worked so damn hard for. Then, Sakura makes the split-second decision that she has enough injuries for one day, so if he decides to hurt her for this, she can always just heal it up tomorrow, along with everything else. "It's _Sakura, _you insufferable…creature!Sa-ku-ra!"

Itachi's eyes narrow into thin slits, and for a moment, he is unable to believe that he has just been insulted by a tiny and _very_ breakable scrap of a genetically improbable – pink hair, honestly? – chunin. "Well, _Sa-ku-ra,_" he says icily, taking a purposeful step toward her, so that she is cornered between his body and the tree once more. "I was previously under the impression that you may have some modicum of the intelligence which the rest of your fellow Konoha shinobi sorely rack. Pardon my misconception."

"Don't imply that I'm stupid!" she fairly screeches, her patience pushed to the breaking point. Sakura supposes she had been somewhat more laid-back in Konoha, but as a missing-nin, it seems as if she is unhealthily tense more often than not. "It's a fairly logical conclusion! You were dead, and," – at a loss of how to properly convey her distress, she stabs her finger into his chest, right above his heart – "and now you're not! Your heart is beating, your temperature and chakra functions are normal, and you're completely, totally _alive_, and that's just not right!"

Belatedly realizing that she probably shouldn't be invading somebody like Itachi's personal space like that, Sakura hastily withdraws her finger and quickly slips out of arm's reach, just in case.

Itachi eyes the flushed kunoichi curiously, and then remembers that she is – _was_ – the Godaime's apprentice, and therefore, a medic-nin and combatant. Of course, people of the medical disciple would find his…circumstances…absolutely unfathomable. "I was dead," he acknowledges, inclining his head a fraction of an inch.

"_Completely_ dead?" Sakura presses suspiciously, her inner medic surfacing. "Your battle with Sasuke – it wasn't a clone? He didn't see a clone or a projection or whatever die?"

"No," Itachi replies evenly, remembering the night in question. "It was real. I – I was the one who died."

It takes a few moments for her to process a statement of this magnitude, but when she does, she blanches slightly. "…Oh, kami," Sakura squeaks, stepping back another pace. Besides Tsunade's Creation Rebirth – which could only be used on one's own body, anyway, and Chiyo's revival technique, both of which had died with the kunoichi who had created them, there are _no other_ medics in the world who can bring the dead back to life. For a moment, she thinks of Sasori of the Red Sands and how he had kept himself alive, but no – she had felt Itachi's strong, steady heartbeat pressed against her back earlier in the night, and had felt it again just now.

"What are you?" Sakura asks quietly.

Itachi smirks humorlessly at the question, remembering her earlier assumption about his being _undead_. "I am fully and completely human, Sakura, and I always have been."

Curiosity is warring with her trepidation, and Sakura steps forward tentatively, looking him up and down, and wondering if whatever had been used to bring him back could ever be used for Tsunade-shishou. "How?"

Discretion is always the better part of valor, and Itachi keeps his reply simple. "The Godaime Hokage was not the only person capable of creating and performing a resurrection technique." (No, Pein and Konan had created this jutsu together, spent years fine-tuning and refining it, and circumstances just so happened that he had found himself _lucky _enough to be the first fully successful test subject.)

"Oh," Sakura repeats, feeling somewhat empty, and still rather disbelieving. She would be willing to perform a resurrection technique on Tsunade-shishou, just because it hadn't been her sensei's time – she had been murdered, in the most cruel and cowardly way, while she had been sleeping in her bed…no member of Root, or even Danzou himself, would have ever dared to face her in honorable combat. But deep down, she knows that Tsunade would never want that…it is sick and unnatural in every way, after all, and nearly incomprehensible to medic-nin like themselves.

Itachi reads the expression on her face correctly, and his lips twist slightly in an ironic smirk. "Keep your conclusions to yourself, Sakura." (Because it had been his time, his destiny, and he had accepted that; he never, _ever_ asked for this.)

"I will," Sakura says dazedly, rubbing at her concussed forehead – the headache has only gotten worse; she can barely keep herself on her feet, and she turns to go, thinking about the quickest way to get out of the forest and back to town, and the small motel that she has been staying in. "…Thank you for saving me," she finishes softly, locking her eyes with the mysterious elder Uchiha for the last time.

Itachi does not reply, and his eyes follow the pink-haired girl as she turns and begins to weave her way out of the forest slowly, stepping over tree roots and letting her fingertips brush the branches of the trees for support, just in case she loses her balance again. "Sakura," he comments, at last, and she freezes.

"Yes?"

"…You are going the wrong way. The headquarters of the syndicate are in the opposite direction – I assume you wish to collect your fees." Itachi may be a solo and undercover Akatsuki operative for now, so he still gets the small, customary member allowance, which is rapidly dwindling…but, in all fairness, the girl _had_ been the one to strike down the target.

_Great. _Sakura rolls her eyes at her own absentmindedness, before making her way back to the stationary Itachi. He looks at her, and then inclines his head due east. "Five miles in that direction."

"Thank you," she says self-consciously, even as he begins to walk away, and in a moment of nothing less than sheer impetuousness, Sakura steps forward and touches his elbow. "Um…can you come with me?"

In response to his elegant eyebrow raise, Sakura blushes angrily, preempting his reply. "Oh, come on, it's not like I'm going to get lost or anything. But I was thinking we could split the fees…you know, half-half."

Itachi knows that this is not a very strange condition; many contractors are in the practice of assigning two missing-nin to hunt the same target – in half of the cases, the shinobi who neutralized the target first received the full payment, and in the other half, both missing-nin would split the fees, regardless. But still, it is usually a term dictated by the contractor, and for one missing-nin to make this suggestion to the other is…quite unheard-of. "Your generosity is kind, but wholly unnecessary, Sakura," he says evenly.

"You saved my life," she reiterates, glaring up at him. "And…you didn't have to, I guess. So that means I owe you."

Itachi finds that he cannot argue with that logic, especially as he has fully exhausted his supply of soldier pills, and really does not think that he can go for the entire following week without eating. "Fine," he says shortly, and she gives him something that could possibly be a smile, as the two of them head east.

-

It is a short journey, but Itachi has to pace himself to Sakura's much slower step. It is rather vexing, but he supposes that she has to be rather quick otherwise, if she had managed to evade the Root hunters for six months. It is obvious that her injuries are taking a toll on her, and he watches through veiled eyes as her step falters every few moments.

Itachi dislikes any form of physical contact; 'dislike', actually, is far too mild a term for it. He has a severe anathema of anything to do or related to the act of touching, and more often than not, even has difficulty with _watching_ other people engage in any contact more than the most casual and accidental brushes of hands or bodies in a tightly packed crowd. Kisame had always gently poked fun at him and called it 'Itachi's little condition', but even he had once admitted that it must have been a strange sort of neurosis. This is the only time in recent memory that Itachi has _minded_ his…oddity; part of him is very much tempted to just grab the kunoichi by the wrist and tug her along, but the most prevalent part of his mind cringes at the very idea.

Thankfully, the rough stone walls of the syndicate's temporary headquarters emerge within a few minutes, and a dark-clad figure is leaning against the gate, waiting. He raises an eyebrow in surprise as he sees the two missing-nin he had contracted approach at the same time, before bowing to him in greeting – the young kunoichi looks extremely roughed up, but the dark-haired man doesn't even have a scratch on him.

"My tracker sensed the complete standstill and subsequent disintegration of the target's chakra signature about half an hour ago," the contractor explains, in his rough, gravelly voice, before extracting a fine leather wallet from the inside of his cloak. "To which one of you do I owe this…?"

Much to Sakura's indignation, he makes to hand it to Itachi instinctively, but the elder Uchiha shakes his head a fraction of an inch. "It was a combined effort," he says silkily.

Sakura is displeased to note that the contractor raises an eyebrow again, looking even more surprised than before. "Ah."

Thankfully, he spares the two of them any further comments by withdrawing another wallet and easily dividing the eight thousand ryou in half, before handing one wallet to each and bowing slightly. "Thank you for your services."

With that, he disappears into the stone fortress, leaving Itachi and Sakura standing in front of the forest. Surprisingly, Itachi is the first to break the silence. "Avoid any towns to the west," he warns, drawing his Akatsuki cloak closer around him, against the cold night air.

Sakura shakes her head, not needing the reminder. "I'm staying in an outskirts motel over in that area," – she gestures vaguely to a small cluster of lights to the south of them. "It's only a few miles, but it's enough off their trail to be safe."

…Itachi is aware that he really shouldn't care that that a good half of her pink hair is matted red with dried blood, or that she has bruises that stretch the entire length of the right half of her face, that she obviously has a concussion from whenever one of the Root members had slammed her head into a tree, or that she keeps gingerly reaching back to touch – he winces – her own spine and cannot walk straight. If anything, this is just proof that, besides being too temperamental and overly confrontational, Sakura Haruno is a complete failure at being a missing-nin, too.

And, he actually doesn't care, either. The one and only thing that motivates Itachi to quietly ask if she is capable of walking herself to her residence is that his mother would have wanted him to. Memories of Mikoto always come up at the most inconvenient times, and Itachi just _knows_ that if his mother had ever come across Sakura in this condition, she would have fixed hot tea and made her a good meal and generally done everything she possibly could to coddle the girl back into a state of decent health. Because Mikoto had been a medic-nin, too.

For her part, Sakura just blinks, unsure if it had been the concussion talking, or whether Itachi had just kind of sort of asked her if she needed him to walk her to her motel. Which is ridiculous, because Sakura doesn't _need_ anything from anybody – at least, nothing anybody out here could give her – _especially_ not…him. For the sake of politeness, though, she is kinder in her refusal.

"…But thank you. Again," Sakura finishes, a little awkwardly, "for…um…both things."

Itachi stares at her for a moment. "…You are welcome."

And in response, she gives him another half-smile, and closes her eyes for a moment, testing her chakra levels. She is at about forty percent capacity, now, and that should be enough; after a moment of concentration, a light wind blows through the borders of the forest, and Sakura dissolves into a whirl of cherry blossom petals and vanishes.

One of the stray petals flutters into Itachi's hand, and he scowls at it, but still, even when he curls his fingers into a fist around the blossom, he cannot bring himself to completely crush it.

-

The transportation jutsu deposits her squarely in the middle of her motel room, and Sakura sighs with relief, and mentally thanks Inoichi for the millionth time for teaching it to her. She can quickly deduce that thankfully, nobody had been in her room, and the kunoichi falls to her knees, before extricating a pretty, black-and-silver bag out from under the bed. Ino had got it for her for her last birthday, and Sakura feels an inexplicable stab of longing for the company of her other closest friend in the world.

Wincing as she slings it over her shoulder, Sakura manages to limp into the bathroom and even take a long, scalding hot shower, healing the bruising and physical traumas left by her encounter with the Root hunters as she goes. It depletes her chakra even further, but as Sakura rubs the white towel over her flushed, dripping skin in her attempt to dry off, no blood comes off it at all.

At last, Sakura flings on her pajamas and collapses into the hard, not-too-comfortable-bed – she wears a pair of outrageously orange plaid pants, much too big for her; she has to roll it up several times around the ankles to even walk properly, and a knee-length, faded orange t-shirt. Naruto had claimed that he outgrew them months ago, and had thrown them at Sakura the night before he had gone into hiding, a too-bright look in his sky blue eyes, as he had told her roughly to wear them every night as something to remember him by.

Sakura curls herself tighter into the ball that she always sleeps in, burying her face tightly in the pillow. Naruto had _begged_ her to come with him and Jiraiya, into hiding, where they would stay until Jiraiya had finished training Naruto to become strong enough to mount a successful coup against Danzou and his forces – but that had only been two days after they had come back to find Danzou as the new ruler of Konoha, and, foolishly, Sakura hadn't been _ready_ to leave, then. She and Ino and Shikamaru and Chouji and everyone else had still thought there had been hope – but then Naruto left, and things only got worse.

Strangely enough, she thinks about Itachi, then – he had left Konoha at the same age as she did, and how had he ever managed to leave it behind? It had been a home to both of them, after all…

It takes a long time, despite her exhaustion, but Sakura finally manages to fall into a deep sleep, one that is plagued by troubling dreams.

(Just like every other night of the past six months, and even in sleep, Sakura's hands grip and twist the bed sheets as she wonders when things will ever change.)

* * *

_to be continued_

* * *

Well, I hope that answered some questions for you guys. :D Once again, thank you very much to everybody who left comments on the last chapter.

As usual, feedback is always appreciated. :)


	3. Close Encounters

_As always, thank you so very much to everybody who was kind enough to review. :)_

_-_

_Chapter Three: Close Encounters_

_-_

When Sakura wakes up, every square inch of her body is completely sore. She literally falls out of bed after her feet tangle in the thin covers, lands in a heap on the chilly wooden floor, and then somehow manages to drag herself over to the bathroom while avoiding any further injury to her person. Mechanically, she washes her red vest, split skirt, and black shorts in the thin stream of water that works its way free from the aged faucet in erratic spurts, with the help of one large bottle of luxurious fresh mountain strawberry scented soap, and another bottle of shampoo with the same fragrance – the official last purchases that she had ever made in Konoha.

Then, she sets her things out on the towel rack to dry as best as they can. They are probably going to be slightly damp when she puts them on later, but she had been _way_ too tired to do this last night, anyway. Sakura showers again, dragging the strawberry soap along with her for the ride; the hot water does its part to ease her cramping muscles – until the flow of water abruptly switches into its customary icy, so-cold-it-turns-your-skin-blue default setting, which, of course, only makes things worse. Sakura curses and nearly slips and falls on a few stray suds of soap, and hits the shower knob as hard as she can to make it _stop_, before frantically reaching out and grabbing the threadbare towel on the rack in order to keep herself properly balanced.

_Life lesson number four hundred and eighty-two_, she reflects sourly, as she wraps the towel around herself and slips out of the dilapidated shower stall, _is that life as a missing-nin is, in actuality, the most unromantic and completely suckish thing that could ever, ever happen to a person. Never believe what you read in books._

Still shivering slightly and clad in nothing but her towel, as her clothes are still drying, Sakura tiptoes out of the bathroom, heading back for her bag. After a few moments of rummaging in it, she finally withdraws a thick volume, even though the once-black, now faded gray cover is desperately tattered and in danger of falling off. A mere one word is embossed on its front, in a bleak color that nearly blends into the rest of the cover: '_Contacts._'

Sakura flips the book open tentatively, careful not to dislodge any of the valuable pages. Shikamaru's father had obtained this for her, once he learned of her intentions to leave the village – she hadn't thought to ask where he got it from, but the dubious-looking directory has proven to be an exceedingly valuable asset. Every single one of the yellowed pages are covered with names upon names and business locations of civilian contractors who are known to often require the certain special services that a renegade shinobi would be specially equipped to provide them.

In the past six months, she has made her way through seven pages, but there are hundreds to go through, within the Fire Country alone. Sakura frowns as she takes one of the battered pens from the bedside drawer and draws a thin-inked black line through the latest name on the list. For once, not caring about how unsanitary it is, she nibbles the back end of the pen thoughtfully, looking at the next name on the list.

_Riku Ikeda – _unusual for two reasons, one, because the category of missions underneath the name is listed as primarily reconnaissance and various forms of information gathering instead of the much more common assassinations, and two, because she is one of the very few female contractors within the information directory. Sakura brings the book a bit closer, squinting at the business location…the operation is based within a museum, and that is enough to make her frown even more pronounced – that kind of thing is unusual, to say the least. The town name is familiar, though; it's nearly fifty miles to the north of here.

Deciding that recon would be a welcome change from the usual routine, Sakura makes her way back to the bathroom, and begins to get dressed. As she zips up her vest, she looks over at her discarded boots, and groans aloud when she realizes that the bottoms are still caked with dried blood. Still, she pulls them on anyway – another benefit to a recon mission, she realizes, while gathering up her black-and-silver bag and double-checking it to make sure that she has everything, is that the Root hunters would have a much more difficult time tracking her down and getting her alone. She has had some close calls before, but last night was undoubtedly the worst of them; she had been so focused on tracking the Sand assassin through the dark forest, that she hadn't even detected the masked chakra signatures of the three unfamiliar presences until it had been too late, and they had literally placed the chakra-suppressing seal on her and materialized out of what felt like thin air.

_Besides,_ Sakura thinks, taking her key and leaving her room behind her, _whatever this is, it involves a museum. How hard could it be?_

Kakashi-sensei would undoubtedly warn her that thinking such thoughts is nothing less than begging for disaster to strike, but Sakura doesn't exactly want to think about that. The innkeeper is snoozing at his desk over a bottle of whiskey, as usual, even though it is just eight in the morning, and Sakura drops off her numbered key and the requisite sum of money for the room, wincing as she does so. Between the exorbitant costs of any room at any respectable inn, food, and supplies, being a missing-nin consists of nothing more than living from paycheck to paycheck, which has proved to be _much_ more stressful than she ever thought it would.

The morning air is chilly against her slightly damp clothes, and Sakura can't help but shiver as she re-shoulders her bag, looking north, and preparing herself for at least an hour and a half's worth of long, tedious travel.

Within the first month, Sakura had learned that traveling via the forests of the Fire Country were the quickest ways to go – and also, the most dangerous. For practicality's sake, the Root hunting squads travel solely through the forests, only venturing into towns when absolutely necessary, and Sakura _knows_ that she has at least two separate units dead set on dragging her unconscious or possibly slain body back to Konoha. Which leaves her confined to walking the common and much safer civilian paths to get wherever she needs to go; she and her various teams have done this quite a bit during her three years' experience as a shinobi, but Sakura had soon discovered that it is another story entirely, now that any random passerby – including certain civilian males who simply do not know any better – can see that she is obviously alone.

Sakura sets her own pace and spends most of the time trying to make herself look as inconspicuous as possible in any way short of actually using a chakra-draining concealment genjutsu, while simultaneously keeping all five of her senses hyper-alert in an attempt to prematurely sense any hunters before they can get too close. Despite all of these things being quite a lot to focus on, though, she is not a solitary person by nature, and spending most of her time alone, with nobody and nothing for company except her thoughts, is just as draining as the state of constant vigilance that she has been forced into.

-

One hour later, a starving Sakura collapses onto one of the barstools outside of a small, decently-hygienic outdoor onigiri shop – she is quick to notice that the structure is identical to the one of Ichiraku Ramen, and of course, she thinks of Naruto, while a wave of longing washes over her.

Upon seeing her, Sakura notices a tall, brown-haired man set down his cut of lightly grilled salmon on the counter of the makeshift kitchen, before he strides out toward the front of the store. His dark eyes automatically flicker toward the Konoha forehead protector tied in her hair and the long, deep slash through it, and he actually bows to her in a somewhat wary greeting. "Good morning, miss. What can I do for you?"

Sakura gives him a small smile, before shifting her bag onto her lap and withdrawing a book of food vouchers from it – like the Nara family, Chouji's clan had somehow acquired these for her, and they are rather convenient…if they happen to apply to the eateries available.

The brown-haired man frowns slightly, before leaning over and scrutinizing the small letters inked onto the fine print of each voucher. After what seems like an eternity, he slides the book back to her. "Sorry, miss. Those won't do anything here."

Sakura fights the urge to swear under her breath, because paying for her room this morning had already set her back more than she had expected. However, this is the first acceptable eatery that she has seen since leaving this morning, and besides, she can't be sure that any food places in the next town will accept these, either, and it's probably best not to take a chance, as any restaurants in town are guaranteed to be more expensive. So she takes a quick look at the pricing written on the overhead menu, and cursing her own body's need for sustenance, pulls out yet more money and hands it to the chef. "Three onigiri and one orange juice, please?"

He takes it with a nod, and within a few minutes, Sakura is presented with a steaming plate of fragrant onigiri and a tall glass of fresh orange juice. She has never been a huge fan of onigiri, and always preferred umeboshi or shrimp tempura, but right now, the onigiri easily tastes like the most wonderful food she has eaten in recent memory. She isn't sure how, but somewhere in the past six months, the things she had always taken for granted – simple things, like having a safe place to sleep, the ability to take a hot shower, or even having two meals a day – had transformed themselves into absolute luxuries.

-

It is an hour later when Sakura finally walks into the town's boundaries, and when she does, she stops dead, because she is staring at her surroundings so intently – and, as a result, is almost run over by two angry bulls, an equally angry farmer, and the cart of placid cabbages that he is crating along.

After she mutters a dazed apology in the cloud of dust he had left in his wake, Sakura forces herself to walk down the streets properly, keeping a respectable pace and trying not to stare at everything around her.

_Now_ she knows why she had thought the name of the town had been so familiar. While she had still been a genin, the Third Hokage had assigned Kakashi-sensei, Naruto, Sasuke, and herself a B-rank reconnaissance mission here – in the three years that have passed since then, absolutely nothing about the small, cozy town has changed. Seeing the comfortable atmosphere, with children running through the streets, carefree, makes Sakura smile, but in so many ways, this place is a painful reminder of the past.

Last time she had walked these streets, she had been trailing after Kakashi-sensei, while on one side of her, Naruto kept walking too close and brushing her wrist with his in a classic display of his lack of subtlety, and on the other (much to Sakura's disappointment), Sasuke had his hands shoved into his pockets as he always did. But the three of them had actually been engaged in a rare, friendly and _normal_ conversation, about something innocuous, like the dubious quality of last night's ramen.

Now, Sakura walks alone, in silence, and tries her best not to think about where her two boys and her former sensei are, on this cool autumn afternoon. She pretends not to notice the curious stares that are directed her way; in any of the shinobi villages, her attire and forehead protector would hardly garner a reaction of this strength, but in this civilian town, she turns heads.

After quickly and discreetly consulting her book of contacts, Sakura finds that the museum is on the other side of the town, and even though she should be in a hurry, because she doesn't know how long this mission is going to take, and she usually tries to fit in two assignments into each day, she finds herself slowing down, for the first time in months, and taking her time as she winds through the streets.

She looks at window displays of pretty clothing longingly, noticing a group of laughing girls about her age eagerly browsing racks upon racks of lovely lace sundresses, and she remembers shopping trips with Ino and Tenten. There few teenage boys lounging outside of the nearby ice cream store, too, talking quietly over large vanilla cones, and she thinks of the way Chouji had always dragged her, Ino, and Shikamaru over to the ice cream shops every Friday. She and Ino would usually protest halfheartedly about the sanctity of their diets, Chouji would laugh at them, and Shikamaru would tell them that they were both unbearably troublesome and then buy them large cones, anyway, and all four of them would end up eating indecent amounts and laughing at each other for it.

After a little while of allowing herself to indulge in such reminiscing, it starts to hurt, and Sakura quickens her pace again, keeping her gaze focused on the approaching museum. Before long, she finds herself at the base of the flawless white marble steps, and she ascends them, unable to keep herself from marveling at the sheer elegance of the architecture. The town as a whole is really one of the most posh and upper-class areas that she has ever seen, but this museum looks like it could easily fit in at an even more luxurious locale.

Sakura winces at her slightly travel-worn appearance in the glass double doors, as she pushes them open and walks inside. Even under the guise of just scoping out her location for any potential hidden threats, her jaw drops as she lays eyes on the beautiful crystal-and-marble interior. She is just about to double-check her book and make sure that there hadn't been a mistake, when her silent admiration of the gorgeous museum is suddenly cut short.

"Hello, there," a smooth voice says, right behind her, and Sakura spins around quickly, her eyes widening as she takes in the speaker – she is a middle-aged woman, with thick, lovely chocolate-colored hair worn in gentle curls. She is dressed in the manner of an especially well-to-do civilian, down to her obviously designer silver-rimmed rectangular glasses, which frame a gentle, intelligent sort of face.

Slightly overwhelmed, Sakura bows slightly, and murmurs a polite greeting to the woman whom she presumes to be her contractor for this assignment.

The woman, for her part, gives Sakura a once-over from her boots to the top of her head, and a slight smile touches her face as her gaze lights on the distinctive pink hair and red-ribbon-bound and slashed Konoha forehead protector. "Sakura Haruno, of course," Riku Ikeda smiles. "A pleasure, I'm sure. Please follow me."

She sweeps off down the hallway, and Sakura is quick to follow, while admiring her surroundings. She isn't surprised that the woman recognized her; after all, the latest edition of the new Bingo Book had come out a month ago, and she was the highest-ranked, not to mention the _only, _kunoichi featured within its pages…not to mention that her 'distinctive features' were a lot easier to identify than most missing-nin. For a fleeting moment, as she leafed through the book, Sakura had been surprised and proud to discover that she had been labeled as A-ranked, but then she remembered that it had been in a bingo book, of all places, and then had ended up curling up in a ball on the hard bed of her motel room and staring unseeingly at the wall for an hour.

Her thoughts are interrupted by Riku's swinging a solid wood oak door open, and gesturing for Sakura to follow her inside, and Sakura's sharp eyes pick up the inscription on the door, naming Riku Ikeda as the museum's curator. The office is flawlessly decorated with millions of odd, interesting things from lands near and far, and Sakura bites back a sigh of envy, wishing that she could have the freedom of taking her time to explore every little mini-exhibit held in the sparkling glass cases. But she takes her seat at the opposite end of the sleek desk, nevertheless, while Riku sits across from her, on a black leather chair that is similar to the one that Tsunade used to lounge in while doing her most tedious paperwork.

"Sakura," Riku begins without preamble, and then pulls open one of the drawers on her side, withdrawing the bingo book from it. She pats it gently, and then looks up at the girl in front of her. "I was leafing through this the other night, so I am certain that your qualifications are more than enough to handle the nature of this sort of reconnaissance mission. Now, what do you know about this museum?"

Sakura blinks, thrown for a loop at the non sequitur. "Um…nothing at all, really," she admits, a little sheepishly, while wondering if she should have done some research. "I've only been to this town once before, and that was just for a night."

Riku waves her hand dismissively. "Oh, that won't be a problem. I'll just have to explain some of your history to you…"

-

Half an hour later, Sakura stares blankly at Riku Ikeda, half-wondering if somewhere along the line, she had somehow drastically misinterpreted all of the older woman's words.

"Um," Sakura manages, at last. "So, um. You mean to say that…this entire museum…is funded by the revenue generated from a certain gang's drug smuggling racket. And, in return for their financial assistance in helping you acquire your priceless artifacts, you supply them with all the extremely considerable revenue that _you_ generate from museum entrance fees. "

Riku winces slightly at the aghast look on the girl's face. "Yes. I was…young. I made a mistake in accepting their proposition."

"And," Sakura continues, determined to make sure that she gets this right. "A rival gang has a missing-nin spy among your work force, with the intention of stealing your incoming revenue and preventing it from getting to the group that _you're_ affiliated with…?"

"Yes," Riku nods.

Sakura just blinks.

In the six months that she has been living this life, this is, without doubt, _the_ strangest scenario she has ever been witness to. "And you want me to…" she asks uncertainly.

"Spy," Riku says succinctly. "Disguise yourself as a civilian, and make your way throughout the museum – with your skills, I trust that you will be able to weed out the spy in whichever exhibit he or she may be working in, thoroughly subdue him, and return him to me, in this office?"

Sakura nods – _that_ isn't a problem; Tsunade-shishou had sent her on missions with rather similar parameters before, and all kunoichi have had special training for this kind of mission type…all of her friends in Konoha would have been able to do this with their eyes closed, as well. "All right," she acknowledges, inclining her head. "I can do that." Then, a thought occurs to her, and she frowns, looking down at her attire. "I – I don't have civilian clothes, though."

Riku smiles at her again, looking somewhat abashed at her own lack of foresight. "Oh, of course. You do stand out a little, don't you?"

With that, she begins rummaging around in the extensive reaches of her desk, before finally pulling out a pale yellow boutique bag with small black lettering on it, and handing it to Sakura. "I bought this for my daughter about a year ago, but it didn't fit well, and I never got around to returning it," she shrugs. "There are private bathrooms down the hall and to your left, and there is another half hour until the museum opens for business, which is when you will begin your mission. You may take that time to do whatever you wish, after you get dressed."

Murmuring her thanks, Sakura and makes to rise, but before she can, Riku shakes her head at her, looking concerned. "Keep this in mind – I personally think it is unlikely, but a few of my advisors have told me that there may be a slight chance that the head of the rival gang could have hired a missing-nin of his own, to make sure that their spy remains undiscovered." She raises an eyebrow meaningfully. "Be very careful."

Sakura's left eye twitches slightly, an unbidden and rather unpleasant mental image of another disguised and highly lethal missing-nin stalking her as _she_ stalks the spy, springing to mind. She bows to Riku Ikeda, thanks her for the warning, and then slips out of the office door, walking down the hall and to the left. Despite the fact that it is highly unlikely that the rival factor could have managed to get their agent in at this time, she keeps her guard up, looking back and forth warily. Now, Sakura can easily see just how expansive the museum itself is – it may be one of the largest buildings that she has ever seen, as it is both sprawling in width, and three stories high…which, of course, means that there are hundreds of convenient places for spies and rival missing-nin to hide.

Somewhere within the inner recesses of her mind, Inner Sakura sighs deeply. _Well, Sakura-chan_, she observes, sounding glum, _this just got a _hell_ of a lot more complicated_.

And, for once, Sakura actually finds herself in agreement with her subconscious mind.

-

She firmly refuses to call it _hiding,_ but Sakura stays safely locked inside the private bathroom until she hears Riku Ikeda's voice over the intercom, announcing the museum's opening for the day. Only a few minutes afterward, the sounds of footsteps and excited chatter reaches her, and she sighs, turning and giving herself another once-over in the mirror just to make absolutely _sure_ that she can pass as a civilian girl.

The once-over consists mostly of pulling dubiously at the dress Riku had given her – it fits perfectly, true, and it looks very much like the pretty sundresses that she had seen in the shop on the way over here, and it is undoubtedly an article of clothing that Ino would _die_ (or, more likely, _kill_) for. Sakura has to admit that it is lovely, though – it's an ivory dress crafted solely out of delicate eyelet lace, hitting right at the knees, which is acceptable, although she could have lived without the deep-necked halter that tied in a simple knot at the back of her neck. After so many months of wearing nothing but her usual fighting gear, this makes her feel uncomfortably vulnerable and exposed, although Sakura supposes that she really has no other choice.

Sparing a moment to tie up her slowly-growing hair in a high ponytail, just in case, and checking the straps on the elegant low-heeled sandals that had also been in the bag, Sakura finally leaves the bathroom and easily finds herself swept along in a crowd of civilians who are examining all of the new exhibits. To her pleasure, she notices that she fits in perfectly, now that she is dressed like them, while she lingers at each exhibit a bit longer than necessary. All Konoha shinobi had been trained in the art of detecting the subtlest nuances of body language; signs that even the keenest civilian behavior analyst would miss. Hopefully, that knowledge should be enough for her to be able to identify the spy immediately, as soon as she happens to set eyes on him.

Sakura sighs softly, as she moves on from an exhibit of rough, uncut diamonds – the attendant there had come up clear, and she looks to the next one, only to be disappointed again.

She has the unpleasant feeling that it is going to be a _very_ long afternoon.

-

From the shadows of a nearby marble pillar, a pair of rather irritated dark onyx eyes flickers through the crowd. All ANBU operatives had to have nothing less than the most exemplary skill at decoding the subtlest nuances of any subject's body language, and even though it has been several years since he has claimed the title of ANBU Captain, his training is still fresh in his mind – yet another reason why this particular contractor had gone to such great lengths to seek him out.

The masses of civilians that flow through the museum, chattering idly, take no note of the tall, dark-haired man lingering near the pillar, apparently perusing a guide book, even though Itachi is most certainly taking note of them. His gaze lights on each person for a fraction of a second before jumping impatiently to the next, still not having found what he is looking for.

Having come to the conclusion that the crowd near the entrance are all most deadeningly mundane, Itachi turns slightly, casually glancing toward one of the other hallways, which houses exhibits on various sorts of precious minerals, and she catches his attention immediately.

It actually isn't her body language, even though, compared to the other unaware people around her, every single one of her small steps and tense movements scream wariness, and the looks that she gives to the exhibit attendants are far too searching for any casual observer. Itachi notices that the girl is dressed differently than she had been when they had last seen each other; she wears some sort of frighteningly impractical white dress in an attempt to blend into the crowd, but, of course, it is her hair that serves to be the dead giveaway. Even across the crowded museum, that bright strawberry-milk pink is unmistakable.

Itachi's eyes narrow a fraction of an inch as he watches Sakura look up from her exhibit and continue on to the next one, disappearing even further down the hallway, and he realizes that if she keeps on in that direction, she will eventually run into a row of exhibits of ancient artifacts – which, coincidentally enough, is the row that a certain spy happens to be working at. And that, of course, will not do at all.

Flipping his guidebook shut with a deceptive casualness and returning it to its place on the help desk, Itachi slowly melts into the crowd; he decides not to follow her, as Sakura is obviously on her guard – with some well-executed strategy, however, he will have her playing right into his hands.

(Speaking figuratively, of course; Itachi winces as he notices a young couple holding hands, and tries his best to keep as much physical distance between himself and everybody else, even in the press of the crowd.)

-

_One Hour Later_

-

Of two things, Sakura is absolutely sure:

One, it's him. _Him,_ being the balding, middle-aged man dressed in the navy blue museum-worker's uniform, lurking behind a large display case of rusted, prehistoric daggers, spears, and carved shields. Every little aspect of his body language screams tension and nervousness, and a million of other minute signs that Ibiki Morino had always taught them clearly signified _traitor _or _spy_. Sakura would bet her life on it, and she's been lingering in this particular hallway for quite a while, patiently waiting for the crowd to thin – a minute is all she needs to approach, jam a few fingers into the pressure point at the base of his neck, and after that, he'll be in no condition to resist her as she drags him over to Riku Ikeda's office.

That will have to wait, though, because of point two: she's being followed.

She can never quite get a good look at her mysterious observer; he's always partially obstructed by the crowds of fellow museum-goers, but from what small snatches that she _has_ seen, his appearance is quite distinctive – he's a tall, handsome young man, dressed rather nicely in dark pants, a button-down dark blue dress shirt, and a black silk tie, and, most notably, he has long, blonde hair tied in a high ponytail.

Strangely enough, he strongly reminds Sakura of Deidara of the Akatsuki, but from the last report that Tsunade-shishou had received from her spy network in the outer regions of the Fire Country, Deidara had been killed in combat with none other than her ex-teammate, Sasuke…so there's really no way. It's just another guy who happens to look just like him, but that's the least of Sakura's concerns. She's noticed him following her, always at a distance, and always immersed in staring at one of the other exhibits, ever since she had left the mineral hallway, which had been an _hour_ ago now.

It's enough to send chills down her spine; at first, Sakura had sensed no chakra from him, and simply deduced that he was merely some young businessman on a break from work or something, who just happened to find her dress a little _too_ interesting for her tastes. But some instinct had told her to look underneath the underneath, and while she had been searching for her spy, she had been straining her own chakra to its limits as well – and, ultimately, it had been worth it. A few minutes ago, she had cracked the surface of the other man's concealment seal, only to find that he had been masking his chakra, just as she has been hers.

Sakura bites down on her lip to prevent herself from cursing in frustration. So Riku's suspicions had been confirmed – this Deidara-lookalike is the missing-nin that the rival element is using to prevent _her_ from neutralizing the spy, and that just won't do at all. If she could only give him the slip for a few moments; once he continues on his way, trusting that she would be in front of him, as usual, she could return here and subdue the spy before the other missing-nin realizes that something is amiss…

Sakura frowns thoughtfully, busying herself by looking down at a description of prehistoric weaponry with unseeing eyes. It's a risky plan, but the two of them cannot just remain at this deadlock into the evening.

Thankfully, at that exact moment, a rather large new wave of arrivals enters the hallway, forcing most of the crowd at the front to move forward. Sakura presses herself to the wall while doubling back, inch by inch, and then slips behind a pillar, surveying the nearby spy – who is explaining to a group of children what exactly each of the weapons are – with one eye, and the enemy missing-nin with the other. Much to her satisfaction, she notices that he had been in the crowd forced to move forward, and he doesn't actively search for her either; obviously trusting that she had been swept along in front of him with the rest of them.

Sakura releases a deep breath she hadn't known she was holding, quickly taking in her surroundings. She is near a side hallway, now, and she steps into it quietly – there is a supply closet immediately to her right, one in perfect proximity to the spy. If she retreated in there, she could easily bide her time and wait until she senses an appropriate lack of presences in the outside hallway to approach and subdue him.

She lets her masked chakra flare, probing the inside of the closet, just in case, and there is nothing but a great deal of coats hung up throughout the secluded space, and a few old mops and brooms wedged into the very back. Quickly, Sakura takes one last glance at her surroundings to make sure that nobody is watching her, and, coming up clear, she cautiously tries the door to the supply closet. It is unlocked, and before she can lose her nerve, Sakura slips into it quickly, shutting the door softly behind her and plunging herself into utter darkness. The door is thick enough to provide privacy, but thin enough for her to easily sense when the spy finds himself alone.

Sakura sighs her satisfaction, releasing the doorknob and taking one step back—

—And she freezes, her hand almost unconsciously drifting to the back of her neck.

There had been _no _way that she could have just possibly heard or sensed somebody's light, even _breathing_ behind her, because there's nobody else _in_ here, of course.

Subconsciously, her muscles tense in preparation for combat, and Sakura spins around as fast as she can, bringing chakra to her fist, only to see…

Nothing.

Just darkness, a few coats, a dilapidated mop, and a bucket that had once been yellow.

She takes another slow step into the back of the closet, her sharp eyes scrutinizing every little detail of her dark surroundings. Much to her display, she can't seem to find any light switches.

Okay, so, maybe this had been a bad idea. Taking a deep breath, just to calm herself, Sakura turns around slowly, deciding that she can probably just deal with taking her chances out in the hallway—

And, just like that, she hears the slow and deliberate click of the lock.

Sakura stills immediately, and instinct drives her to take one tentative step forward, even as her mind begins screaming a steady litany of the most virulent profanities she knows. She reaches for the doorknob quickly, just to test it…

In less time than it takes her to blink, her right wrist has suddenly been locked in a merciless, icy grip, and before Sakura can do so much as even _think_ about wresting herself free, her entire arm is efficiently twisted behind her, forcing her back to the enemy. But in the past two days, she has definitely had enough of this kind of treatment, and she immediately pulls chakra to that fist and tries to fight herself free.

Whoever this other missing-nin is, he doesn't let go easily, and Sakura curses aloud as she strains to grab his black silk tie with her free hand, before finally finding purchase, and pulling forward as hard as she can. She is rewarded by hearing him give the smallest of choking sounds as both of them stumble forward, and he is forced to release her then, although he gives her the slightest push as she does so, and Sakura bites down on her lip to stifle a screech as she trips in her unfamiliar shoes and falls against the wall, just managing to grab a coat with one of her hands in an attempt to stay upright. The hard wood of the wall blindsides her for a moment, but she swings out blindly at her opponent – it is still too dark to see properly, but the closet is cramped enough for her to know that she has to find her mark sooner or later.

Much to her displeasure, the man evades her punch easily, but instead of offering a counter-strike, Sakura swallows a gasp as he steps _way_ too close to her, with speed almost too great to comprehend, and grabs both of her arms and pushes her up against the wall again, hard enough to jar her spine, which had already been severely bruised last night. The sudden, harsh impact on the not-fully-healed area blackens her vision for a split second, sending fine purple stars shooting across her eyelids, and her knees almost give out beneath her, while the other missing-nin takes the opportunity to lock her in a chakra-enhanced grip of his own. His breath is slightly uneven from their impromptu sparring session, stirring the hair on the top of her head.

They are fairly pressed against one another, now, and Sakura pants for breath as she tries in vain to extricate herself from his tight hold – he has a significant advantage over her in this kind of combat, because he is tall enough for her face only to be on a level with his collarbone, and the loose, raven-colored ponytail that has slipped over one of his shoulders…

For the second time in a mere few minutes, Sakura freezes, and all the fight goes out of her for a bare moment, as she dares to look up at her would-be captor for the first time.

At first, Itachi had expected for her to be too afraid to put up a real fight, and then, unpleasantly enough, had been proved wrong – but the horrified look in Sakura's bright emerald eyes the moment they lock with his own impassive crimson gaze is well worth it.

True enough, she is stunned beyond _belief_ for a few moments, but then she starts struggling even harder than before; Sakura twists under him, and quick as a flash, actually steps and stands on his feet, before somehow managing to quickly invert her wrists and bury her fingernails into his arms, through the fine material of the dark blue dress shirt. Upon faced with the unorthodox method of retaliation, Itachi is unable to stifle his hiss of pain as he feels her draw blood, and Sakura's eyes narrow vindictively, taking advantage of the moment of weakness to pull both of them toward the door.

"Unlock the door," she fairly snarls into his throat, their voices muffled by the coats, as she stands on her tiptoes and angles her wrists so that she can drag her fingernails down his arm, leaving bloody tracks as she goes. "_Now._"

Itachi's eyes flash a dangerous vermilion, and in that moment, Sakura knows that, regardless of the almost peaceful note that they had parted on last night, she has crossed the line. She should have known that, no matter what how he may have behaved toward her in a non-combative situation, he is _definitely_ not somebody that she would want facing her across enemy lines.

He pulls himself free of her and takes hold of her bare shoulders, and the next thing Sakura knows, Itachi pins her hard, face-first against the wall, with a mouthful of some unfortunate man's coat. "Unlikely, _Sakura_," he says sardonically – adjusting himself so that his sharp elbows are braced against her shoulders, his hands locking her wrists behind her lower back, as her head falls forward; her forehead is braced against the wall as she gasps at the uncomfortable change in position. "You should know better. If you have any desire to act in your own best interests, you will stay where you are and cease your attempts to escape."

For a few moments, there is no sound in the closet save for the mingling of both of their harsh breathing, and even though Sakura knows that he can probably _feel _her, she is unable to keep herself from trembling slightly, from both the trauma of her current situation, and the remembered horror of the way the Root captain had touched her last night, when he had been the one to have her pinned like this. From what little she knows of him, she doesn't think Itachi is that kind of man – if so, she is certain that he would have taken advantage of the situation already, which he most certainly has not – but it doesn't make anything easier, especially as Sakura can just feel him, against her exposed back and the nape of her neck, where her entire dress ties in a simple knot—

Sakura's bare skin is warm, and the muscles of her back and arms keep shifting restlessly underneath him, and it really is enough to make Itachi wish he were somewhere far, far away. This is the first time that he has been forced to resort to such physical measures to subdue an enemy, and he is fairly certain that he hates it. For most shinobi, close contact in combat is a matter that is taken for granted, but Itachi's – condition – makes it nearly unbearable. For the kami's sake, Sakura's heart is beating like a frightened rabbit, and he can practically feel it reverberate from her chest, through her spine, and into _his_ chest, by extension; it is an unsettling sensation, to say the least. Itachi brings a small summons of dark chakra, enough to form a restraining rope, to his hands, gazing at her wrists. It will hurt a great deal, but that cannot be helped. "I apologize for what I am about to do to you," he murmurs, at last.

Unaware of his actual intentions, Sakura freezes, all thoughts of Itachi not being _that_ kind of man promptly going out the window.

_Oh, hell, no._

Her kick takes him unawares – it is a blind strike on her part, but without the reinforcement of her boots, she can almost feel the impact all the way up her leg, as her foot connects squarely with the unprotected bone of his shin. It is a blow strong enough to undoubtedly bruise the bone considerably, and Itachi bites back a very uncharacteristic curse. The second his grip on her relaxes instinctually, she spins around, aiming a fist with enough chakra in it to break his neck at his jaw, and it is only his more than a decade's worth of experience that enables Itachi to evade it at the last possible second.

Sakura's eyes widen with horror as she realizes that she had missed, and the next thing she knows, she is physically thrown against the wall again, except, this time without the coat to soften the impact. Up until now, unlike the Root hunters, she realizes that Itachi hasn't been purposely trying to cause her as much pain as possible; only using the bare minimum of the force that he is capable of. But now, his hard, unyielding grip on her arms and back is enough for Sakura to give a barely-stifled moan of discomfort.

"Life lesson, _Sakura,_" Itachi points out impassively, his lips brushing the top of her ear. "The next time you are instructed to cease and desist your childishly futile escape attempts, it would be in your best interests to obey, because," – he pushes her arms even further into her back, the movement forcing her shoulders back, and Sakura bites her lip to keep from whimpering – "most people are not as _gentle_ as I am."

Sakura mumbles something pained and indistinct into the wooden wall, along the lines of that the day she ever thinks of Itachi is _gentle_ is the day that she saws off her own right hand with a blunt butter knife.

Itachi actually manages to decipher her unclear mumblings, and smirks at the back of her head humorlessly, once again drawing a tangible summoning of chakra to his hands. "I will say this once more, despite your rather foolishly impetuous earlier behavior," Itachi tells her calmly. "I apologize for what I am about to do to you."

Sakura freezes like a stunned deer, all of her muscles tensing, but what she expects doesn't come – instead, there is a sudden, searing pain, like living fire, across her wrists, and she gasps aloud, her knees almost giving out beneath her. "What are you—" and she cranes her neck to glance over her shoulders miserably, only to flinch as she sees the rope of dark chakra locking her wrists firmly behind her back. Sakura pales, turning on him. "What the hell?"

"There should be no adverse affects – you will not be able to break them, but they will not drain your chakra, either," Itachi assures her evenly. "They will disintegrate of their own accord in half an hour."

Sakura pales even further as this sinks in. "Half an hour?"

"Enough time for me to instruct the spy to take the money and leave," Itachi replies offhandedly, and with a simple hand seal, the same dark chakra rope begins to lock Sakura's ankles together.

Sakura stares down at her ankles, and at the blatant violation of her person, horrified. "But that means I won't—"

She trails off unhappily, and Itachi simply looks at her for a few long moments. "I apologize," he says, again, simply, and he actually means it. He does not enjoy this, but they do live in an inordinately competitive world, and it was merely her bad fortune to encounter him on this particular mission.

Sakura glowers at him in all of her righteous indignation, and actually risks taking a small bunny-hop in his direction. "Don't waste your breath apologizing when you can just take these off me!"

Despite himself, Itachi's lips quirk up in a ghost of a smirk, and because this has always been the only exception to his severe anathema of touch, he lifts his purple-painted index finger and pokes her in the forehead with it. Sakura looks shocked for a moment, but the light touch had just enough chakra in it to send her collapsing to the floor, and she glares up at him vehemently. Itachi's tie is knotted at a haphazard angle, now, the sleeves of his dark blue dress shirt are ripped from where she had scratched him, and a few loose locks of his hair have fallen out of its customary ponytail, but still, it is apparent who has really come out for the worse in this little encounter.

"I hate you," Sakura says suddenly.

Judging from the heat in her eyes as she looks at him, Sakura probably really believes it, but Itachi can see that it is just her wounded pride talking, and he raises an eyebrow at her, amused. "Indeed, Sakura. Please do not attempt to extricate yourself from the ropes, as that will only make them burn more."

And, with that, he slips out of the supply closet, leaving behind one very bruised – literally and figuratively – and unfortunate pink-haired kunoichi. Sakura tries to pull herself free of the chakra ropes for a few minutes, and then, sensing that it is useless, leans her head against the wall with a deep sigh, counting the number of ways that she hates her life.

(_And_ the number of ways she despises both living Uchiha. The total of the two sums comes out to be a thoroughly depressing number.)

-

_Later That Night…_

-

It is ten at night, and as Sakura leans her head back, letting the hot water caress her bruised body, she busies herself counting a few _new_ reasons why she hates her life.

By the time the ropes had disintegrated and she had stumbled out of the closet, Itachi, the spy, and the money were all long gone. Riku Ikeda had been disappointed, but took pity on her by giving her something like one-fifth of the full fee, and letting her keep the lace dress. Then, Sakura had been forced to head to the next town north, where she had done this _totally_ awful mission that involved tracking down ten missing zoo iguanas, of all things.

That fee had given her the tiny pittance of money required to rent her what was undoubtedly the _worst_ room in the _worst_ and most completely overcrowded inn in the town – and, on top of that, she hasn't even had anything to eat since a small bowl of ramen after her failed mission at the museum.

Great.

Now positively sulking, Sakura shuts her shower off, and reaches out to the towel rack instinctively, only to find—

Nothing.

Sakura stares incredulously, wrapping her arms around her dripping body.

No towels.

There are _no towels._

Chiding herself for being too wrapped up in her own thoughts to notice this _minor inconvenience_ before she stepped into the shower, Sakura climbs out of the stall and stands in the midst of her tiny, cramped bathroom, looking somewhat lost. There isn't even a shower curtain she could try to rub herself down with, and she'll be damned if she tries playing towel with that suspicious-looking blanket on that ratty excuse for a bed in her actual room.

Cursing all the way, Sakura pulls out some things from her bag, and gets dressed quickly, in the pair of pajamas that she hasn't worn since Naruto gave her his. These are a bit more acceptable – loose pink plaid pants that actually fit, and inexplicably enough, a stretched out mid-thigh length old black t-shirt of Shikamaru's.

She is still soaking wet and it is _uncomfortable_ as all hell, and Sakura scowls at her bedraggled reflection in the steamed-up mirror and then pads out of the bathroom and to her door. She opens it a crack, before stepping outside, looking down the dimly-lit hall – and, thankfully, an elderly woman, dressed in the manner of the inn staff, notices her as she busily sweeps the wooden hallways.

"What can I do for you, dear?" she asks cheerily, setting her broom aside.

Sakura wraps her arms around herself a bit self-consciously, aware that the bruises that Itachi had given her arms and wrists are showing, her shirt is already kind of sticking to her, and that she is dripping rivers onto the floor that the woman is working so hard to clean. "Um, I don't…have any towels," she manages, in a rush.

The elderly woman frowns. "Oh, dear. I'm terribly sorry. Matsuhita is in charge of those things, and he's awfully absentminded nowadays." She checks her cart, but there is nothing except cleaning implements, and she smiles at Sakura apologetically. "You could try the room next door – Matsuhita often gives some rooms extra towels on accident. There's a very nice young man in the room to your right; he would probably be thrilled to help out a pretty girl like you."

Despite her mood, Sakura can't help but smile at the helpful woman. "Thank you so much; I'll be sure to give it a try."

The older woman smiles again, and then disappears down the hallway, probably ready to finish cleaning the rest of the inn before morning. For her part, Sakura just stares at the door to her right – a 'very nice young man' indeed; probably some teenage civilian, or something of the sort…nothing to be wary of, considering everything _else_ that she's dealt with today.

Before she can lose her nerve, Sakura walks up to the door to her right – she can see a light burning through the crack at the bottom of the door, so he must be awake. She knocks three times, and then steps back, placing her hands in front of her in a manner that could almost be considered demure.

Within a few moments, the door swings open, and Sakura pastes her most innocent look onto her face as she looks at the floor despite herself, because as if her day hadn't been bad enough already, this is _really_ pretty embarrassing. "Hello, I'm Sakura from next door, and I'm really sorry to bother you at this hour, but as you can probably see, I just took a shower and, um, I guess they forgot to give me any towels and I was wondering if you would be so kind as to lend me one?"

Sakura says all of this in one breath, and finally, after having delivered her statement, looks up at her mysterious potential-towel-benefactor, ready to give him a winning smile…

…And, instead, finds herself face-to-face with none other than Itachi Uchiha, who actually looks every bit as stunned as she does.

* * *

_to be continued_

* * *

Haha, extra long chapter for you guys; I really hope you liked it. Of course, any and all feedback would be very, very much appreciated. :)


	4. These Circumstances

_Again, thank you so much to everybody who reviewed. :) Oh, and because I think I forgot to mention it earlier – this story alters the timeline of certain events that happened in the manga slightly, in just one specific instance: instead of being assigned the mission to eliminate the Uchiha clan at thirteen, Itachi was assigned that mission, performed it, and left the village at fifteen, the same age Sakura is now. I know it seems like a weird thing to change, but I promise that it will come into play later. _

_-_

_Chapter Four: These Circumstances_

_-_

In the space of just about two and a half milliseconds, Sakura somehow manages to internally ask all the kami why,_ whywhywhy_ they hate her _so _freaking much.

Because, honestly, she had just wanted to _ask_ for a towel. She certainly hadn't had any desire to find herself face-to-face with Itachi Uchiha, her village's most infamous – and very, very nonplussed-looking – renegade, especially as he had just been the single cause for what has undoubtedly been one of the most frustratingly horrible days that she has ever had the horror of experiencing. Ever.

Sakura laughs nervously, stepping away from the door and managing not to slip in the veritable pool of water that has collected at her feet. "Well, um, never mind then, I'll just be going—"

Itachi's eyes narrow a fraction of an inch, and before Sakura can finish her escape, one of his hands shoots out, locks around her still-bruised right wrist, and he rather unceremoniously drags her into his room, before slamming the door behind her.

All of this happens in less time than it takes her to blink, and in her rather stressed state of mind, it takes Sakura's exhausted body one moment further to comprehend the fact that she is _in Itachi's room. _Alone. And that he is leaning against the closed door, staring at her in a way that makes her really, _really_ uncomfortable.

Sakura gulps, and despite her mind's best conscious efforts to order her to stand her ground like the brave kunoichi she is, there are some things that are just _too_ intimidating to comprehend, and Sakura backs up one pace, before colliding with the small heating unit. "What the hell are you doing?" she tries to demand, but to her intense dismay, the question comes out phrased in a terrified squeak.

Itachi raises an eyebrow elegantly, still leaning against the door and surveying her dripping and bedraggled countenance from head to toe. "I believe I could ask you that," he replies, at length.

Sakura wraps her arms around her waist defensively, displeased to note that her black shirt is now soaked through and clinging to her skin. "I distinctly recall saying that I would appreciate it if you could lend me a towel," she says, through gritted teeth. "But I said that under the impression that I was asking some _normal_ guy for a towel. Now, I would be happy to just leave."

Itachi regards her for a few more long moments, his expression inscrutable. "…No."

"Look, I know what this is about, and I don't exactly like the fact that I keep running into you, either!" Sakura retorts hotly, wringing her hair out onto the carpet and stepping toward him, so that they are only separated by a couple of inches; Itachi eyes her dispassionately, and he feels distractingly warm and dry, enough to make her scowl resentfully. "…But I'm cold and wet and I hurt all over, and I _still_ hate what happened when we were in the supply closet earlier today, but I don't want to start anything right now, and if you would just _let me_, I'll be happy to go back to my room and try and sleep, and if I'm lucky, I may even dry off in a few hours—"

Itachi frowns down at her, unimpressed by the beginnings of what promises to be a remarkable tirade. "…You talk too much," he says quietly.

Sakura gapes at him incredulously, the four simple words effectively taking all of the wind out of her sails and reducing her to a state of utter speechlessness. Itachi quickly takes hold of the welcome opportunity by slipping away from the door and padding across the expansive room, before disappearing into a door that Sakura presumes leads into the bathroom. She directs a look at the door out of the corner of her eye – this could be her chance to make a break for it, grab her stuff, and skip out of the inn entirely; spending the night in the room next to _Itachi's,_ of all people, sounds like it would only be a fractional margin better than staying out in the unprotected forest, at the mercy of the Root hunters.

Sakura honestly weighs her options for a few seconds, but then she is forced to admit that if she leaves now, she is _never_ going to get a towel, and if she stays wet like this, she's probably going to end up with a cold, or worse. And the only thing more dangerous than being a missing-nin is being a sick and vulnerable missing-nin.

She is startled out of her thoughts by a heavy, solid weight hitting her squarely in the chest, and Sakura looks down sharply, just managing to catch it on instinct. At first glance, her immediate impression is that it is a large black fleece blanket, but then she realizes that it is just a thick, nice-smelling plush towel, _much_ nicer than anything that an extra towel that an inn would give him. "What…?"

Itachi leans against the door to the bathroom, and when Sakura looks over at him, she is surprised to find herself noticing that, right now, with his loose black-and-gray plaid pajama pants, slightly stretched-out black t-shirt, and vaguely irritated look in his dark eyes, he looks deceptively normal; the tense, combat-ready posture and purple-painted fingernails and toenails are the only eerie nods to his true nature and profession. "Just use this one instead," he says tonelessly. "Both of the towels that came with the room were covered with mysterious and undoubtedly unhygienic stains."

Slightly unsure of what to say, Sakura clutches Itachi's towel close to her chest, before edging over toward the door. "Um, thanks – I'll bring it back in a few minutes…"

Before she can even finish her sentence, in another display of that remarkably casual, chakra-enhanced speed that she had cursed a million times over during their confrontation earlier in the day, Itachi is in front of her, effectively blocking her exit. "Now, Sakura," he deadpans. "Did I give you my permission to leave?"

Sakura blinks, realizing the implications of his statement, and then glares up at him angrily, forgetting that he could probably very easily snap her neck in retaliation before she would even register that his arm had moved. "I don't need your _permission_!" she snaps, trying – and failing – to get past him. "Kami, Itachi, it's not like I'm going to steal your damned towel, or anything!"

Itachi just frowns at her slightly, before giving her a light push in the direction of the bathroom with the tips of his fingers, in order to minimize the amount of physical contact. "Go," he orders, in a tone that brooks no argument.

Silently fuming at his sheer _arrogance,_ Sakura gathers the towel to her chest and stalks across the room without another word – the injustice of this situation is enough to make her wish that she had just quit while she was ahead by drowning herself in the shower while she had the chance.

To add insult to injury, compared to her room, which Sakura is almost one-hundred percent sure had formerly been a broom closet and is furnished with nothing but a rock-hard mattress on creaky bedsprings, Itachi's is fairly luxurious. As Sakura tentatively steps into the bathroom, flicking the light on and closing and locking the door behind her as she goes, she is displeased – to say the least – to notice the accommodations here are just as amazing, and—oh, _kami. _

Itachi has a _hairdryer._

Sakura actually drops the towel on the floor, reaching out to touch the appliance reverently. She hasn't even _seen_ one of these since she had left Konoha; it had been one of those little luxuries that she had taken so much for granted but that she misses with a fierce passion now, and, oh, the jealousy _burns. _Briefly, Sakura wonders if she could manage to sneak it out somehow, but then she winces as she rubs the bruises left on her arms – hell, she knows that _she _would be wrathful if somebody stole her hairdryer, and imagining a wrathful Itachi is honestly enough to make her want to hide under a table somewhere.

Without further ado, Sakura decides to do the next best thing, and strips out of her soaked clothes and underwear, wraps Itachi's towel around herself, plugs in the hairdryer, and begins drying off all of her things and her shoulder-length hair as quickly as she can. Between the heat of the hairdryer and the welcome warmth of the thick towel, Sakura finds herself relaxing slowly, taking a few deep breaths in order to calm herself. It smells good in here, kind of like the scent that had been lingering on the towel when Itachi had quite literally thrown it at her, and, because she is curious by nature and no amount of intimidation could take _that_ away from her, she leans back a little, observing the shower gel and shampoo balanced neatly on the rack outside of the shower stall – pine and spearmint, apparently. Sakura smirks humorlessly at herself in the slightly-steamed mirror; despite everything else that she could say about Itachi, none of which would be remotely pleasant, at least he has the fundamental decency of ensuring that he always smells good while making other people's lives utterly miserable.

Once her things are finally dry, Sakura rubs herself down with the towel, thinking seriously about purchasing one on the rare occasion that she ever finds herself with money to spare, only because it would prevent horrible, awkward situations like this. Her clothes are comfortingly warm when she puts them on again, and she runs her fingers through her flattened, straight hair self-consciously before replacing the hairdryer back to its original place, and slipping out of the bathroom, the damp towel cradled in her arms.

Itachi had been sitting on the edge of his bed, but as soon as he sees her, he rises to his feet, meeting her halfway. He is tired, but he raises an eyebrow minutely upon noticing that Sakura physically looks less like a drowned mouse and more like a contented cat, after the nearly twenty minutes she had spent locked in his bathroom with _his_ hairdryer. _She better not have shorted it out,_ he finds himself thinking distantly, even as he notices the obvious wariness in her posture as she looks up at him almost nervously. His physical appearance may be a lot less threatening now, without the Akatsuki cloak, but Sakura doesn't think that anything could ever make her feel at ease around somebody of his reputation, and she holds the towel out to him a little awkwardly. "…Thank you."

Itachi wrinkles his nose slightly upon faced with the wet and now synthetically-sweet smelling towel, before folding it quickly and efficiently, and Sakura can't help but wince as the movement draws attention to the three long tracks that score the insides of both of his arms. They are half-scars and half-welts, where her fingernails had dug into the skin and drawn blood, and now, hours afterward, they are a strange, painful-looking purplish-maroon shade. To Itachi's surprise, she blushes a little while surveying the casual action, her eyes going to the marks on his arms. "Um…do those hurt?" she asks cautiously.

Itachi blinks, somewhat thrown by the question – they do sting quite a bit, but he will be damned if he admits that her unorthodox attack had wounded him. "No," he denies stiffly.

Maybe the fact that she is now dry and warm and therefore, feeling a great deal better, makes her braver, but Sakura risks raising an eyebrow at him thoughtfully. "Really?" Unfazed by his repressive gaze, she gently pulls a thin sheet of mint-green chakra to her hands. "You know, I could…"

The movement pulls at the thin scars, but Itachi crosses his arms. "That will be unnecessary," he rebuffs coolly, because the thought of her hands on the sensitive skin on the insides of his arms makes his nerves tingle in a somewhat unpleasant way, but he tempers his words with a small smirk. "Besides, I thought you _hated_ me, Sakura."

Sakura fidgets uncomfortably at the reminder of her earlier words; true, after he had countered all of her attacks and subdued her with such ease in the museum, she had been livid enough to have happily torn his eyeballs out and broken all of his ribs, if given the opportunity. But in all honesty, it's kind of hard to summon those strongly resentful feelings of deep and vicious hatred after such a long and tiring day…especially after they had run into each other so coincidentally, and he had given her a warm towel and a hairdryer. Not to mention that he had _also_, after all, saved her life just about twenty-four hours ago.

Besides, surprisingly enough, there is nothing remotely confrontational about Itachi's manner right now; he seems content to just watch her like she is an interesting puzzle to be solved, waiting for her answer.

"Fine," Sakura admits grudgingly, rubbing at her tired eyes. "I guess I don't really hate you. I was just…very unhappy."

Infuriatingly enough, something that could pass as amusement flickers in his gaze. "Indeed."

Biting back a yawn, Sakura heads for the door; this may be the only remotely civil contact she's had with a person who may even be called an acquaintance, at this point, in the last six months, and she hates to admit it, but it _is_ kind of sort of pleasant to actually talk to somebody. But the fact remains that she is bone-weary, because it has been one rough day, and she has no intention of spending the remaining two hours of it having a late-night chat session with _Itachi_, of all people – kami, the path her life has taken just keeps leading her down stranger and stranger roads. "Do I have your permission to leave now?" Sakura asks pointedly.

Itachi briefly considers saying no, just to see her reaction, but he sighs a little, joining her at the door, before unlocking and opening it. "Good night, Sakura," he says, on instinct, because despite everything else, his mother _had_ raised him to be a well-mannered young man.

Sakura, on the other hand, looks unimpressed with his politeness, instead choosing to give him a dubious look as she steps quietly out of the room. "…Good night, Itachi," she mumbles, at last.

She feels the weight of his eyes on her back as she takes the few steps back to her dark and pathetic broom closet of a room, before shutting and locking the door behind her, leaning back on it with a sigh. After a few moments of trying to nurse the raging headache that is threatening to develop, Sakura leaves the door and collapses on her ratty mattress and broken bed, staring up at the ceiling blankly as she pulls the thin sheet that serves as her blanket around her body.

Despite her exhaustion, sleep eludes her, and for the life of her, Sakura can't stop thinking about how damned _weird_ this is. Itachi had left Konoha five, almost six years ago at the age of fifteen, and since then, the respective Hokages have sent at least one or two separate hunter squads after him every other _week_. None of these teams, all of them comprised of the best hunters that Konoha had to offer, had ever gleaned so much as a mere sighting of the elder Uchiha – and now, inexplicably enough, _she_, of all people, keeps encountering him in the strangest of circumstances. This makes it, what, three times in the space of twenty-four hours?

Sakura turns on her side, punching her hard mattress moodily and causing it to leak yet more stuffing. It has to be just freakish coincidence that is motivating her meetings with the infamously criminalistic, lethally dangerous, and formerly _dead_ elder brother of her former teammate, because…well, because she simply refuses to entertain any other possibility.

She consoles herself with the thought that this past day has literally held a lifetime's worth of close encounters of the freaky kind with Itachi – hell, she had been alone in his bedroom, and despite his carefully nonthreatening behavior, it was still a really unsettling experience – after all, she's probably going to wake up tomorrow, check out of the inn, and head for the next town north in search for a new assignment, and then never see Itachi Uchiha _ever_ again. And, within a few months, when she runs into Naruto again, or maybe Lee and Tenten, she can tell them about this, and they will all laugh and marvel at the sheer surreality of all of it.

Now sufficiently comforted, Sakura buries her head in her pillow and finally drifts off to sleep, where, thankfully enough, it is guaranteed that she will have some peace, if only for a few hours.

-

On the other side of the thin walls, Itachi sits on his bed; his back is propped up against a few pillows, and his knees are drawn to his chest, with his arms wrapped around them – it is a pose that Shisui always used to tease him about, but it has also been the one physical habit that Itachi has never been able to break. His eyes are closed, but he is not asleep, and due to that impromptu encounter with a certain unlucky and pink-haired kunoichi, he does not think he will be for a very long time.

(He never used to believe in fate – however, one's perspectives tend to change after being given a completely unexpected second lease on life.)

Almost involuntarily, his crimson gaze flickers toward the wall, and Itachi cannot help but wonder if he should be worried.

-

_The Next Evening_

-

Sakura knows that she really shouldn't have any reason to be so nervous, and she shouldn't fear the darkness or forests, and _certainly_ not both of them together, because they are both inescapable aspects of life. She has spent the whole day stretching her chakra to its limits, searching for the three people who created this phobia; thankfully, the Root hunting squad does not seem to be anywhere in the vicinity, but then she realizes that she hadn't been able to sense them last time, either.

The room in which the contractor had told her to meet him is at the highest floor of the solid stone fortress, and Sakura has built up a great deal of stamina over the past six months, but this is her third assignment of the day, and her feet _hurt._ The fortress is still and cold and far too austere and remote, but she supposes that if she had made an enemy out of a few members of a notorious crime syndicate and they were hell-bent on assassinating her and everyone in her family, she would want to feel protected, too.

The door is reinforced with solid steel, enough to make even her knuckles tingle slightly as she knocks thrice, before stepping back and waiting for her summons. Instead, the door swings open seemingly of its own accord, and Sakura steps inside without thinking twice about it, and immediately bows slightly to the contractor, offering a soft greeting. As she straightens, she allows her gaze to flicker about the room, instinctively taking in her surroundings, and—

—_oh, hell, no._

She freezes.

Itachi tenses visibly.

The contractor looks back and forth between the two missing-nin he had hired, his curiosity apparent. "Is there a problem?" he inquires, sounding slightly bemused at the palpable shift in the mood of the room.

Sakura swallows over her suddenly dry throat. "Not at all," she replies, trying her level best to keep her voice even, as she takes small, unwilling steps to stand beside the elder Uchiha; she refuses to do so much as look at him, instead training her eyes determinedly on the contractor.

For his part, Itachi stares unseeingly out the dark window as the contractor explains their mission one more time, for Sakura's benefit, and his eyes narrow, almost unconsciously. Despite his best efforts, he cannot think of a logical explanation for this – _phenomenon _(calling it coincidence would be a slight understatement at this point)_, _and it is most irritating, to say the least. He has no degree of personal dislike toward the girl, but being faced with her presence at every possible turn is highly unsettling.

Sakura forces herself to focus on and take in the parameters of the assignment, even though part of her remains hyper-conscious of Itachi's presence at her side. From what she has seen of him so far, the older male keeps his thoughts and emotions guarded to the highest degree, but even she can pick up on the fact that, if only for a moment, he had seemed just as uncomfortable as she does.

It seems like an hour later when the man finally releases them to begin their work as glorified guard dogs, in essence, and Sakura fleetingly wonders if she could feasibly jump out the window into the grounds below in an attempt to avoid what is sure to be a long and painstaking walk through the fortress and down into the forest with Itachi, but there are solid iron bars on the windows, and it would be a pain to rip them out and then have to pay to have them re-installed.

Itachi is most certainly _never_ easily entertained, but as he wordlessly walks over to the door after the contractor's dismissal and holds it open for her, he can practically sense the sudden and almost alarming spike in her heart rate as the door closes and the two of them suddenly find themselves alone on the dark flight of stairs. It is enough to make him smirk slightly – the fact that she is unnerved by him is predictable enough, but he finds her attempts to hide that fact under a cool façade to be truly amusing.

It is the little things that give her away, like the way she carefully plasters herself against the opposite wall as they make their way down the stairs, the silence heavy between them. Sakura's fingers tremble slightly as they skip down the railing, and she bites her lip every so often, despite her best attempts to keep her expression impassive. Itachi fleetingly wonders if their encounter last night had not been enough to prove to her that he really does have no interest in killing her, or whatever it is that she is so afraid of – but he can tell that she is slowly simmering, and this tense silence will not last for long. Idly, he decides that she will crack by the time that they reach the perimeter of the dark forest, and he is not disappointed.

"Why do you keep following me?" Sakura explodes, sounding almost painfully confused, once they have completed half a mile's circuit around the forest and found no signs of intrusion. "Do you have any idea of how _creepy_ this is?"

Itachi turns to look at her almost incredulously, stopping dead in his path. During the course of his life – or, _lives_ – he has been accused of more than his share of undoubtedly heinous crimes, but never anything as ignominious as _stalking_ a teenage girl. "…What?"

Sakura actually grows a few inches due to indignation alone, making it a point to stomp viciously on the nearest pinecone within her reach. "You heard me! Wherever _I _go, you oh-so-_coincidentally_ turn up, too! Look, Uchiha, I don't know what the _hell_ it is that you want from me, but _you're not getting it_!"

It is a testament to her degree of self-control that she refrains from shrieking the last four words at the top of her lungs, but the fury in her voice is unmistakable as she glares at him, an action which he returns immediately. "Rest assured that I am notfollowing you, Sakura," Itachi replies sharply, continuing the patrol. "And I most certainly do not _want_ anything from you, either."

Sakura scowls at his back, before quickening her pace a little, to catch up. "But—"

"Coincidence."

The steely bite of his tone masks the tiniest hint of uncertainty, and Sakura sighs to herself, looking into the forest and using her chakra to probe the depths of the area. So he _isn't_ following her – well, not purposely, anyway, and she cannot decide whether it is better or worse this way, but something's not right, and then she realizes what has been bothering her about him since they first laid eyes on each other.

"…So, where's your sharky friend, anyway?" Sakura asks suspiciously.

Itachi blinks, unable to keep himself from envisioning his former partner's physical reaction to such a statement. "_Kisame_ was partnered with Zetsu following my death," he says evenly. "He – and the remaining Akatsuki members, save for the Leader and Konan, are unaware of my…current state."

Sakura stares at him, things slowly starting to make more sense. "So, you're like a secret solo operative now?" she presses.

Itachi does not reply.

Unfazed, Sakura continues on, glad for the opportunity to articulate the questions that have been building up in her head, even if it's to one of the most generally unresponsive people she has ever had the dubious pleasure of conversing with. "I guess that they must be waiting to kind of _unveil _you for something big, but why are you doing all of these random side missions? They don't seem to have anything to do with any evil plans to gain control of the world…"

Itachi just eyes her for a few moments, giving away nothing.

Sakura looks him up and down appraisingly. "You're replenishing your organization's funds, aren't you?"

"…"

Sakura actually stands on her tiptoes, looking at him as if he is a particularly interesting medical case scenario. "Which means that you must be _planning_ something!"

Itachi closes his eyes, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on. "…Are you fully aware of how irritatingly inquisitive you are?" he asks dangerously.

She actually laughs a little, which definitely had not been the reaction he had been hoping to elicit. "You have no idea how many times I've heard some variation of that statement."

"I believe that says something."

"Yeah," Sakura can't help but smirk. "It says that I'm probably right, hmm?"

Itachi does not deign to reply, for the sake of loyalty to his organization, but Sakura's smile only widens, and she skips ahead of him a few paces, a self-satisfied bounce in her step that hadn't been there before. He deals with it stoically for a few minutes, missing Kisame more and more with each step, because in all the _kami,_ at least Kisame had the dignity befitting a missing-nin…well, most of the time, anyway.

Just because Sakura is looking happy enough to make him bitter, Itachi clears his throat, waiting for her to stop and look back at her. "Forest," he says simply. "Now."

Sakura is unable to keep herself from swallowing visibly, the happiness slowly draining out of her countenance. "…What?"

"It is unlikely that the offenders will skulk around the perimeter – if they are really observing the house in an attempt to identify weaknesses, they will be doing so from inside the bordering forest, where they are more likely to escape detection," Itachi explains, almost patiently.

Sakura _knows_ this is flawless logic, and she _hates_ it, because going back into such unprotected territory in the presence of such company is nearly as high on her list of priorities as actively seeking out her squad of Root hunters, but she can't actually refuse to do it. Itachi lingers in the shadows of a nearby oak tree, obviously waiting for her, and Sakura takes a deep breath to calm herself as she steps forward to join him, and the two of them slip deeper into the forest.

_He's not going to hurt me,_ Sakura tries to assure herself with every breath, all too aware of the silent, dangerous presence beside her. _There wouldn't be any logic and reason in it; we're kind of on the same side now, not like yesterday, and he's _not_ going to hurt me…_

"Sakura."

His low voice startles her enough to almost make her jump, and Sakura bites her lip to keep herself from gasping. "Yes?"

Itachi regards her calmly. "Your heart rate has accelerated to an easily noticeable level, and your chakra is flaring considerably."

Both of them know why, and this time, Sakura cannot even try to prevent the heated blush that spreads across her face. "Oh. Um. …Sorry."

It takes a good half an hour of concerted effort for her to focus on completely soothing her own breathing and masking her chakra once again, but in the end, it proves to be worth it. She wouldn't say that she feels _comfortable_ around Itachi, exactly, but she lets herself remain a little closer to him without descending into a full-on panic attack. And it would be stupid for her to actually feel anything like _safe_ around him, but Sakura has to admit that she feels less wary about the Root hunters while in his presence. After a while, she even starts talking at him in an attempt to break the ominous, pressing silence of the forest, and Itachi's replies are either nonexistent, monosyllabic, or in extremely short sentences, but it still qualifies as legitimate conversation, and after so much time spent alone, it's an almost pleasant change of pace.

After three thorough sweeps through the forest, and on their way back up the staircase in order to report the lack of criminal activity to their contractor, Sakura starts talking quietly in order to give herself something to do, and in the midst of a random anecdote about a ramen stand of _very_ suspicious quality back in town that should be avoided under all circumstances, she notices Itachi staring at her, and she trails off mid-sentence. "…Um. Wait. You _do_ eat, don't you?" It seems like an asinine question, and she winces, but she doesn't know anything about the resurrection technique that was used on him, and the havoc it could have wreaked on his systems.

"I do not, actually," Itachi deadpans.

Sakura stares; she had prepared herself for it, but it's still a really unsettling thing to hear. "You don't – but how…"

She is such a genuine mix of confused and intrigued that Itachi has to sigh at her naiveté. "Eating is rather expensive," he says, by way of explanation. "Soldier pills are a great deal cheaper and more efficient."

Sakura actually recoils slightly – it's true that Inoichi Yamanaka had given her a bag of them, just in case, but they were to be used in cases of extreme emergency _only_, and from his attitude, she has the feeling that Itachi doesn't share the same perspective. "Do you know _how_ unhealthy those are?" she hisses, nearly tripping up a stair. "Especially in the case of sustained use—"

Itachi rolls his eyes minutely, and she remembers that he had been an ANBU Captain; of course he knew everything about the pills and their associated dangers.

Sakura changes tack a little, automatically slipping back into what Ino would affectionately call _medic-mode._ "When was the last time you had _real_ food?"

Itachi actually looks thoughtful for a few moments as he realizes that he actually does not remember. "…At some point prior to my death, I would assume."

Sakura can't help but shudder slightly; the casual manner in which he refers to his death and subsequent return to the world of the living sends shivers up her spine. Itachi smirks a little at her obvious discomfort, before knocking on the contractor's door and stepping back, waiting for them to be admitted in.

To Sakura and her achy feet's relief, he pays them for their services rather quickly, before informing them that he would be interested in hiring them for the two nights as well. The fees aren't spectacular, but both Itachi and Sakura agree, knowing that they cannot very well afford to be choosy in such competitive times.

The second that they are alone again, Sakura wastes no time in giving Itachi a completely and utterly disgusted look. "But that was around _eight months_ ago. Maybe nine."

Itachi raises an eyebrow, obviously asking what her point is.

"You're going to die," she says succinctly. "Again. Not like I care, or anything, but…still." Sakura looks at him curiously, wondering how he's managed to sustain himself on a diet of soldier pills for so long – she's only used the pills twice in her life; they make her sick, and she always overdoses on actual food afterward. "Don't you ever crave real food?"

Itachi smirks humorlessly. "I never _crave_ anything."

"Well," Sakura says, drawing the word out, as they step out of the fortress and she glances toward the scattering of nearby lights that indicates the town that both of them will have to stay in for the next two or three days. She hesitates for a moment, but she cannot deny the fact that she is ravenously hungry, after not having eaten anything substantial in more than twelve hours – or that she may feel just a tiny, microscopic kind of nervous about being alone in the small, crime-infested town. "I'm going to get dinner," she finishes, in a rush, before grabbing her small red-bound book of food vouchers out of her bag and holding it out as proof.

Itachi glances at the book, feeling fleetingly curious. "What is that?"

Sakura sticks the book back in her bag, knowing that in this area, the populace would probably do anything to get their hands on such a commodity. "You'll see," she replies mysteriously, and allows herself a small smile of triumph when, after a few moments and seemingly casually, Itachi matches his step to hers.

-

Sakura literally has not stopped cringing since she set foot into the town's boundaries, as the first thing they saw was one man getting viciously knifed in the gut and then robbed during a bar fight that had spilled outdoors. She has seen more than her share of violence in the shinobi world, true, but witnessing that kind of wanton cruelty in mere civilian situations makes her skin crawl. Itachi, meanwhile, does not bat an eyelid – but she knows that his mere presence is enough to prevent any sort of trouble from befalling _her,_ by extension. This makes her scowl, a little, and not for the first time, Sakura wishes that she were a little more physically imposing.

To her dismay, most of the outdoor eateries are of quality that would never stand a chance of passing a standard health inspection, and the patrons at the others are undoubtedly people that Sakura would normally choose to stay at least a mile away from, just in case.

"Do you have any preferences?" Sakura asks Itachi a bit shakily, after she hears somebody's bloodcurdling scream, in the distance.

Itachi gives her a look that tells her she should know better, and Sakura rolls her eyes at him, even while avoiding a row of slumped bodies on the side of the road that smell of strong drink. She casts her gaze around a little desperately, wondering if they will ever find anything passable, before her eyes finally light on a dimly-lit shrimp tempura shack. Mentally taking note of the restaurant's name, she turns to Itachi abruptly, before stepping close to his side and flipping open the book of vouchers discreetly. She finds it within a short period of time, and sighs with relief, before tearing out two of the coupons and leading him up to the restaurant. "Could you get a table?" she asks, before heading to the counter, vouchers in hand.

Itachi eyes the outdoor establishment distastefully, before finding a distant spot on the counter that is as far away from the other patrons – gang members, from the insignia on the back of the cloaks they wear, he notices detachedly – as possible. He observes Sakura's brief interaction with the chef through veiled eyes; the young man looks far too interested in her, but he does not try anything suspicious. After inspecting the two vouchers that she hands him closely, he leaves, and only returns when he has two steaming plates of shrimp tempura.

Sakura joins him, looking rather self-satisfied, and slides his plate over. "And _that's_ what they do. There are some towns where you can't find a restaurant that applies to the terms of the voucher, but most of the time, this is how I eat."

"Thank you, and that does sound very…convenient," Itachi allows evenly, before taking a tentative bite of his shrimp tempura. After so long of existing on soldier pills alone, it is a sensory overload in every possible way, and he lets his eyes slip shut in order to hold on to the startling taste.

When he opens them again, after having thoroughly chewed and swallowed, he catches Sakura looking at him, obviously amused. "See?" she says smugly. "My way _is_ better."

"I was unaware that it was a competition," he replies smoothly, but as he eats, Itachi is forced to admit that he had forgotten how what an overwhelmingly pleasant feeling it was.

They complete the rest of their meal in silence, each of them wrapped up in their own thoughts, but after Sakura finishes her remaining little bit of lemonade, she leans back on the chair, allowing herself to relax slightly. "Where are you staying tonight?" she asks, out of curiosity.

Itachi looks amused, for all of a moment. "Why, Sakura, were you interested in visiting?" he returns sleekly.

Sakura pales, and then turns five shades of alarming red in rapid succession, because _hell,_ she may be lonely, but not like _that_. "Wait – _what_ – no! It's not like that! I just wanted to make sure that…oh, never mind," she trails off, too flustered to even attempt finishing the sentence.

Deciding to cease tormenting her, Itachi sighs a little. "There is only one inn in this town, in any case," he replies, looking over to a run-down nearby building. The door is open, and in the small makeshift lobby, a few other gang members wearing insignia on their backs identical to the ones that had been at the eatery earlier are loitering around the desk, passing around a tall, green glass bottle.

Sakura blanches slightly, slipping out of her chair. "I'm not spending the night there," she says, too quickly, remembering the last time she had made such a mistake – it had been a month after she had left Konoha and stupidly, she hadn't known any better. She isn't going to forget _that_ experience, and even months afterward, her skin crawls at the memory.

For a split second, Itachi considers asking why as he joins her seemingly aimless walk away from the restaurant, but then he sees the expression on her face and eyes her again – she is pretty, even though she is far too young for such things, but then again, he supposes that some men would like that. "Well, where _are_ you staying?" he asks evenly, even though it should be none of his concern.

Sakura stops in her path suddenly, before turning her neck and peering cautiously into a dimly-lit, deserted alley. After a few moments of deep inspection, she finally points. "There."

Itachi follows the path of her gaze. "…You intend to spend the night inside a waste receptacle?" he asks, a few faint notes of incredulity creeping into his normally impassive voice.

"Not _inside_ it!" Sakura says indignantly, wrinkling her nose at the very prospect. "Behind it."

Itachi has to admit that it is a decent hiding place – to any passerby, she would be completely invisible in the darkness, and she is petite enough to fit there with ease, if she presses her back up against the brick wall and keeps her knees close to her chest.

Itachi is a killer, but contrary to popular belief, he _does_ have a conscience. It speaks in his mother's voice, and right now, she sounds absolutely horrified at the very prospect of Sakura's suggestion. Unaware as to his small inner conflict, Sakura turns back to him after resigning herself to her less-than-ideal circumstances. "Well, I guess I'll see you some time tomorrow," she says uncertainly, checking the space behind the Dumpster for roaches.

Purchasing both of them separate rooms would be inordinately expensive, and then there is still the chance that she would be unsafe. However, sharing a room would have decidedly inappropriate implications, which would make her probably misunderstand if he asks her anyway, but some small part of him insists that it is worth a try, nevertheless. Itachi isn't sure exactly _how_ he makes the awkward suggestion, but within a few moments, Sakura is staring at him blankly, like she can't decide whether to accept or act on the _flight_ part of her fight or flight instinct. "…Um," she says, at last, and looking as if she wishes that she could be somewhere very far away from here. "That's…really kind of you and all, but I think I'll be fine out here tonight. Thank you, anyway."

Itachi regards her with an inscrutable expression in his eyes, before nodding finally, and stepping away. "Good night, Sakura."

Sakura echoes the sentiment weakly, before heading to the back of her 'waste receptacle.' _Good night indeed._ The floor and the brick wall against her back are cold as she crawls into the tight space, before curling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them glumly. It smells weird back here, even though she knows that she will be safe, because even the lowest of lowlife criminals isn't low enough to go poking around the back of a Dumpster.

Within half an hour, she is kind of already wishing that she had accepted Itachi's offer – hell, she hadn't known _what_ to think then; it had just seemed so utterly surreal. Dinner with him could have even been considered nice, but in the past eight months, Sakura has learned not to trust easily, especially not an S-ranked criminal whom she had grown up thinking was the essence of all evil. After Danzou had forced Kakashi-sensei to make the report detailing their failed hunt for Itachi and Sasuke, and Kakashi had informed him of Itachi's death, though, Danzou had told all of them the truth about the circumstances leading up to the Uchiha massacre – he had seemed to find the irony rather amusing.

_That_ had changed things, but just because the truth came out, meaning Itachi was not the person she and the rest of Konoha had thought he was, doesn't mean that she's going to start trusting him all of a sudden; he's still performed countless crimes against her country and its interests, as an Akatsuki member. But maybe she has nothing to fear from him on _that_ front, Inner Sakura points out, and Sakura is forced to acknowledge that Itachi has had his fair share of opportunities to take advantage of her, which he has never acted upon. And there's nothing about him that suggests he wants that kind of thing, anyway. If anything, aside from that encounter in the supply closet (which he had even apologized for), Itachi seems rather tolerant of her, and making that offer in order to save her from an unsavory night behind a Dumpster could possibly qualify as…_considerate._

Sakura sighs moodily, burying her face in her arms, while somebody screams in the distance. _It's going to be a hell of a night._

-

_The Next Evening_

-

Sakura Haruno has never felt so physically terrible in her life.

She had woken up around eight in the morning, only to find that her body had descended into the state of utter grossness that only bodies curled up behind Dumpsters all night can ever achieve. While, under _normal_ circumstances, she would head off to perform some kind of minor assignment within the town until her main assignment later in the night, she had spent literally the _entire_ day looking for a place to brush her teeth and take a decent shower.

In the end, she had broken into a room at the shady inn, and after triple-checking to make sure the guy staying there was going to be occupied with the rest of his gang for at least two hours, Sakura had finally gotten her blissful, welcome shower and generally freshened up. After that, she had found a vandalized building that had once been a school, and hidden in it until the appropriate time that she had to report to the fortress for her mission. She is hungry, her forehead seems to have a permanent indentation on it from where she had slumped against the rough metal of the Dumpster, her skin and hair _still_ smells like an odd mix of old, festering Chinese takeout and fresh mountain strawberry, even after the hot shower, all of her muscles are sore beyond belief after spending the night in such an utterly comfortable position, _and_ she has a terrible headache from lack of proper sleep, as well.

"How are you?" Itachi inquires impassively, once they have returned to their usual business of searching the forest for assassins sent by the crime syndicate.

Sakura glares at him balefully. He looks well-rested and his movements are as languidly graceful as always, and he smells like pine and spearmint, and _not_ like old Chinese food (the contractor's nose had twitched in a puzzled way as soon as she had entered the room), and damn it, it makes her _angry_. "I spent the night behind a _waste receptacle_," she hisses irately. "How do you _think_ I am?"

Itachi makes an indistinct noise in the back of his throat as he inspects a few footprints left on the forest floor. "If I remember correctly, you were not _forced_ to spend the night behind a waste receptacle."

His tone carries the barest hint of smugness, and Sakura actually growls aloud, subsequently refusing to talk at him for the rest of the evening. Itachi doesn't mind the quiet, but after their shift is over and they have been paid, he sniffs the still air as the two of them step back outside. "Two-week-old Manchurian shrimp, yes?" he asks impassively, as if he has not been trying to identify the scent since they first began patrolling the forest.

Sakura blushes hotly. "Maybe."

They walk together in silence for a little while, _only _because they are headed in the same direction and it's just a matter of convenience, anyway, before Itachi narrows his eyes as he notices her reaching into her bag for her book of food vouchers. "No, Sakura."

"But—" she begins, although the look on his face quells her instantly, and she fidgets somewhat. "…Just…no Chinese food, all right?"

In the end, Itachi settles on a Chinese restaurant, just because he can, but Sakura insists on sitting as far from the open shrimp dishes as possible, while giving him dirty looks as she eats her vegetarian noodle dish.

"You're mean," she tells him superciliously, as she sets her chopsticks down. "And unnecessarily vindictive."

Itachi blinks – if he recalls correctly, the last time anybody had called him _mean_ was when Sasuke had been six, and he had gotten rather angry after Itachi walked in on him trying on his ANBU gear and ordered him to take it off and hang everything back up in the closet. He sighs slightly, before standing up from his chair. "I do not necessarily contest your statement, although I am willing to walk you to your…waste receptacle."

Sakura makes a face at just how _weird_ that sounds, before joining him. They walk for a while in nearly comfortable silence, and she idly wonders when and why she had stopped being quite _that_ wary of him…perhaps because he has never personally given her reason to fear him. Then, she looks into the fifth alley past the inn, recognizing her Dumpster. And the smell of rancid two-week-old Manchurian shrimp that seems to emanate from it in waves. Sakura sighs, once again resolving to accept her fate. "Thank you for dinner…Itachi." She doesn't think she will ever get used to saying his name like that, in such casual context.

For his part, Itachi merely raises an eyebrow at the Dumpster, looking very thoughtful. "Sleep well, Sakura."

With that, he retreats back around the corner and vanishes, and Sakura tentatively steps further into the alley, before dropping to her knees and getting ready to crawl into the small space between the waste receptacle and the wall…

And then, just like that, she gets what may possibly be the shock of her life.

Sakura bites her lip to stifle a scream, and then falls backward, unable to believe that she had almost invaded the personal space of no less than _four_ absolutely filthy and evidently homeless men, wrapped in tattered blankets and slumping against each other, all of them smelling strongly of alcohol and various bodily fluids.

Muttering a steady litany of curses under her breath, Sakura pulls herself to her feet, careful not to wake them – and just _where _the _hell_ is she going to go, now that these _idiots_ have stolen _her_ Dumpster? Now, she has to wander this less-than-savory town at night, looking for another Dumpster to go hide in, and with _her_ luck, the only other waste receptacle she finds will undoubtedly be filled to the brim with things even more hideous and putrid-smelling than ancient and moldy Chinese food…

Sakura is so absorbed in her mental tirade that she storms out of the alley and around the corner, back into the street without stopping to think. It catches up to her a few moments later, and she takes one step backward, looking at the corner of the dark, dilapidated building disbelievingly. Sensing her eyes on him, Itachi steps back out of the shadows, and raises an eyebrow upon seeing the look on her face. "Yes?"

"My Dumpster was overrun by homeless people!" Sakura glowers, taking a step closer to him. "And you _knew_, didn't you? You sensed their presences as soon as you stepped into the alley, and didn't see fit to warn me!"

"They are harmless," Itachi replies dispassionately. "You are obviously uninjured, are you not?"

Upon faced with this, Sakura cannot help but blink rapidly.

She hurts all over. She still has an awful headache, and _still_ smells of gross Chinese food. She is all alone in this world, save for being plagued with the constant company of _one_ person, who happens to be the mean and vindictive and _criminal_ elder brother of her first love and ex-teammate – and, indirectly, also the catalyzing factor of just about every event that has shaped the course of her life.

And, on top of that, the one place that she was kind of relying on calling home for the next two nights has been cruelly stolen out from under her feet by four shameless alcoholics.

Almost mechanically, Sakura turns around and begins to walk away. In response to the question in Itachi's eyes, she sighs deeply, figuring that Naruto would forgive her for not being around, if he knew her circumstances. "…I'm going to go and find a river and drown myself."

Itachi rolls his eyes minutely at the sheer volume of teenage melodrama – which even seems to have affected Sasuke, dismayingly enough – and catches up to her within two steps. "My offer still stands," he tells her quietly.

Sakura turns around, and looks up at him for a few long moments, the expression in her eyes inscrutable. Her mind is racing with considerations and thoughts, but the most prevalent is Inner Sakura, telling her that there could be no harm in just taking the chance, damn it. Hell, at the very least, she'll get a warm, safe, nice-smelling room, and the capacity to take a hot shower, and a comfortable place to sleep, and…

Sakura melts visibly at the prospect. "Fine," she sighs, resigned.

Itachi is unable to resist smirking slightly, as they begin the walk back to the inn.

* * *

_to be continued_

* * *

Oh snap.

As always, any and all feedback would be extremely appreciated. :)


	5. A Matter Of Possession

_Thank you so much to everybody who was kind enough to review. :) Also, and if you'll bear with me for a few moments – I've had some questions and comments about this, and I thought it would be best to clear it up before we get any further. Right now, Sakura's fifteen, and Itachi is twenty. They're just getting to know and trust each other, and this trend will continue, but that doesn't change the fact that both of them have certain emotional issues – which will become more apparent with each chapter that passes – that they will have to overcome before their romantic relationship can really become solidified. Including but not limited to the fact that Sakura has a good deal of growing up to do, emotionally and physically, and Itachi…well, it's Itachi. Enough said. I can't give away plot points now, can I? :D _

_-_

_Chapter Five: A Matter Of Possession _

_-_

_Just pretend it's a sleepover, or something,_ Sakura thinks to herself desperately, as she and Itachi walk into the rather dilapidated inn. The two men stationed at the desk immediately glance up, looking her over appraisingly, but the second their gaze lights upon the darkly intimidating black-haired, crimson-eyed man at her side, they drop their eyes in a passable semblance of respect, trying their best to look like they _hadn't _been looking.

Sakura doesn't really notice this, as she is far too busy trying to convince herself that, hell, she's had hundreds of sleepovers before. Hundreds of nights spent staying up indecently late while she and Ino would paint each other's fingernails and giggle and sigh over whatever romantic movie happened to be playing, or engaging in night-long sessions of baking chocolate chip cookies from scratch with Tenten, while talking about anything and everything, and hey, this is _essentially _the same thing in nature, so there's nothing to be afraid of here—

"One room," Itachi orders the two clerks brusquely, extricating a good portion of his fees from the evening and sliding the currency over to them.

The older of the two removes a numbered key from the rusty, swiveling rack as quickly as he can and hands it to Itachi, with a sort of frightened grimace that was perhaps originally supposed to be a hospitable smile. "Have a pleasant stay," he says weakly, and Itachi deigns to nod at him once before sweeping off down the hallway, with Sakura just remembering to follow after him.

Meanwhile, Sakura has the uncomfortable feeling that her left eye may have just twitched, because she had kind of just managed to talk herself into being comfortable, but _then_ the fact re-emerges that this really isn't going to be like a sleepover and she can't even pretend it is. Because she doesn't think she has the stomach to imagine herself and Itachi sitting side-by-side in bed, with her putting the finishing touches on his purple nail polish during the commercial breaks on the romantic movie of the week as they discuss the presented plot points earnestly, and…

…oh, _hell. _Too late.

"Sakura," Itachi observes clinically, as he slides the key to Room Sixteen into the lock, before swinging the door open. "You are green – if you have any intention of becoming sick, please attempt to contain yourself for a few moments."

Dazedly, Sakura steps inside the dark room, before flicking the light switch on and catching a glimpse of herself in the slightly-cracked mirror above the nearby, chipped dresser. Much to her dismay, she _has_ achieved an unflattering and rather unnatural pallor, probably due to that particular mental image, and she rubs at her cheek with her right hand, willing herself not to blush. "…Sorry."

Even in this less-than-savory town, the room that Itachi had procured for them is a good deal nicer than any place that she has stayed in within recent memory, and Sakura walks the length of it, before absentmindedly setting her bag down on the double bed located in the center of the room. She presses one hand against the mattress experimentally, and sighs deeply, before sitting down on it on instinct – she can't remember the last time she's slept on a nice, soft bed with actual intact springs. The room is simply but acceptably furnished, and lit dimly, with a mere two flickering light bulbs, and Sakura has to resist the temptation to crawl right under the covers (which she is overjoyed to discover are _real_ blankets, not just a few threadbare sheets) and go to sleep.

Itachi locks the door behind them and sets the key securely on the dresser, looking vaguely amused at the expression of abject bliss that has spread over Sakura's features as she settles herself into a comfortably cross-legged position and gives a tiny bounce on the bed, before grabbing a pillow and hugging it to her chest happily. After a few moments, she notices his scrutiny and blushes a little – she had actually forgotten that he had been leaning against the wall near the door, carefully surveying her.

In response, Sakura settles the pillow back into its original location and looks right back at him unflinchingly. "I spent the entirety of last night curled up behind a Dumpster, so I think I'm entitled to some…enjoyment," she points out mildly.

This time, Itachi cannot help but smirk, as he crosses the room in a few strides, picks up her bag, and presses it into her arms. "Sakura, you may _enjoy_ yourself however much and in whichever ways you please – after you cease smelling like old Chinese food," he finishes, sounding mildly distasteful.

Unable to believe that he had just blatantlyinsulted her scent (besides, she already _knows_ that strawberry and old shrimp are two fragrances that should never go together, damn it!), Sakura scowls, tossing the bag back at him. "_Itachi,_ I owe you so much for your hospitality, so therefore, I insist that you should be the one to get shower privileges first," she says, in an overly-sugary tone.

Itachi raises an eyebrow, looking utterly unimpressed by her logic. He is quite tired and his muscles are sore, and under normal circumstances, he would rather appreciate her consideration, but he has the feeling that if he showers now, he will come back outside to find Sakura already sound asleep. Sharing a bed for the night will be difficult enough _without_ the added issue of her smelling somewhat…edible.

"Very well," Itachi replies silkily, and Sakura blinks, surprised, just as he knew she would. Without further comment, he spins around and slinks toward the open bathroom door, pausing only to look at the startled girl over his shoulder. "In that case, I sincerely hope that you do not mind cold showers, Sakura."

Sakura pales a little at the prospect of something so completely unpleasant, and Itachi purposely hesitates, stepping into the bathroom and leaving the door open as he performs a quick summoning technique, so that a sleek black bag of his own appears on the floor. By the time he pulls out his towel and sets it on the rack, he finds that Sakura has made her way into the cramped bathroom with him; she is leaning against the counter and clutching her bag, looking somewhat abashed. Before she can even open her mouth to rationale her sudden change of mind, Itachi just gives her another knowing smirk, and sweeps out of the bathroom silently, shutting the door behind him.

Leaving Sakura to stare incredulously in his wake – had he really just effortlessly and purposely manipulated her out of some _very_ tempting and well-deserved curl-up-in-bed-and-shamelessly-cuddle-with-a-pillow time? This may possibly be even worse than the whole 'oh, let's buy Sakura Chinese-food-for-dinner in order to torment her' debacle of a mere hour ago.

Silently fuming on principle, even though her heart isn't really in it, Sakura sets out her pajamas on the counter and takes her soap and shampoo, before luxuriating in a hot shower that actually does its part to wash out the remaining rancid-shrimp slime that had been lingering on her innocent person, and replacing the decidedly unwelcome scent with her usual sweet strawberry fragrance. Afterward, she is pleased to find that Itachi's towel is just as warm and fluffy as it had been last night, and Sakura sighs with relief upon feeling Naruto's blissfully clean orange pajamas against her bare and now-dry skin.

Ignoring the hairdryer, because they always make her headaches worse, Sakura makes her way out of the bathroom, toweling her hair as she goes. She looks around the room first, momentarily confused, but then she catches sight of Itachi – he is dressed in the loose black and gray pants and matching black t-shirt that she had seen him in last night, and inexplicably enough, he seems to be lounging against the wall in the far corner of the room, absentmindedly inspecting his fingernails. Sakura almost asks him what he is _doing_ there, but then realizes that this is probably his way of trying to give her a little space to settle in first, and she gives his general direction a small smile, before walking over to the bed and tentatively taking a seat on the right side, closest to the window. Her body immediately relaxes into the comfortable environment, and she sighs contentedly, before continuing to work the towel through her hair.

Strangely, Itachi's nose twitches very slightly, and he levels a disapproving glance upon the outrageously-orange clad and eyesore of a kunoichi sitting on the bed. True enough, her old shrimp odor has vanished – only to be replaced with an overly synthetic, too-sweet aroma that quickly diffuses around the entire room. It is a glaringly unsubtle assault on his senses, one that makes him want to either cough or sneeze or both. The strawberry scent is nearly overwhelming, but there is an undertone of something different there, too – not unpleasant, but unusual and out of place, and it makes him frown.

As immersed as she is in her personal grooming, Sakura isn't completely unaware as to the weight of Itachi's gaze on her, and after another minute spent in awkward silence, she looks over at him uncertainly, wondering why his nose is twitching like that; it makes him look the world's scariest bunny rabbit, or something. "It's, um, fresh mountain strawberry," Sakura offers cautiously. "If you were…wondering…"

She trails off as she notices Itachi begin to approach the bed; noticing the expression on her face, he slows down a little. "Please do not be alarmed," he says stiffly.

Despite the fact that she is now very much alarmed, Sakura nods once, her muscles unconsciously tensing as Itachi sits down on the other side of the bed – as far away as he can get away from her, while still remaining physically on the mattress. He rests his back against the headboard and tilts his head a little bit toward the ceiling, letting his eyes slip shut, so that his long, sooty eyelashes just barely brush the sensitive skin underneath his eyes. Sakura blinks at the seemingly uncharacteristic behavior – he doesn't seem the type to let his guard down, however fractionally, around _anyone _– but seeing him so unguarded is fascinating at the same time, and she can't seem to keep her eyes off him.

In the next second, though, Itachi inhales deeply and opens his eyes again, although this time they are their natural, dark charcoal-gray color, and clouded with thought as he looks over at her suspiciously. "Ramen," he says flatly. That had been the strange imbalance in fragrances that had been bothering him earlier; most of the physical scent emanating from Sakura's skin and damp hair is that saccharine strawberry, but the subtle, underlying fragrance he had not been able to identify from his earlier distance is that of…ramen. He does not even want to ask why, although the combination of that scent and the hideous color is strangely, vaguely familiar…

Now realizing what he had been trying to do, Sakura wraps her arms around her waist and looks down at her pajamas, suddenly all too aware of that old, constant ache of missing her best friend; an ache which seems to have taken up permanent residence in her heart. "These were Naruto's," she says simply. "Which explains the smell. He gave them to me before he…left."

Now realizing where that subconscious connection had come from, Itachi inclines his head a fraction of an inch, and watches as she returns to her pursuit of drying off her hair. "Ah." There are a few heartbeats of silence, as he looks her over again, despite himself, and his gaze is drawn to the vivid contrast between her bright pink hair and the midnight-black of his towel. "Why do you not dye it?" he asks abruptly. "It is noticeable to the degree of sheer ridiculousness."

The sudden and seemingly random question startles her into dropping the towel on her lap, and Sakura reaches up to touch her 'noticeable' and 'ridiculous' hair, running her fingers through it and frowning at the few drops of water that are dislodged. "I tried!" she replies defensively. "I know how much it stands out, so the first thing I did when I…left…was to buy a box of blonde hair dye; I figured that a new hair color would be enough to disguise myself."

Itachi looks fleetingly distasteful; it may be unreasonable, but his time spent suffering under Deidara's acquaintance has been enough to effectively and thoroughly poison him against most individuals with that particular hair color. Unaware as to his thoughts, Sakura continues on, rubbing the towel against her scalp irately. "And it was _good_ stuff, too, nothing with cheap ingredients, but, um."

She stops abruptly, becoming suddenly quite immersed in staring at a particular spot on the wall, and Itachi narrows his eyes at her. "Yes?"

Despite her best efforts, Sakura sinks down on the bed a little self-consciously. "I had an allergic reaction, of sorts," she mutters vaguely.

Itachi raises an eyebrow again, skeptically, just as she knew he would. "Are you a medic-nin or are you not?"

"It's not nearly as simple as that!" Sakura retorts heatedly, before squeezing her pillow tightly, out of sheer temper. "It's true that we can fix most allergies, but there are some reactions caused by certain _triggers_ that are just…well, you can't do anything about them at all." She fidgets uncomfortably. "And I guess that my triggers happen to be most of the ingredients commonly found in hair dye."

"I see," Itachi deadpans. Every aspect of her body language is now screaming about just how uncomfortable she is, so naturally, he presses a bit further. "What exactly constituted your…reaction?" he inquires silkily.

Unwillingly, Sakura sinks down a few _more_ inches, inadvertently giving off the impression that she is seriously considering becoming one with the blankets, and mumbles something incoherent.

"Proper enunciation is the hallmark of good breeding, Sakura," Itachi responds, sounding exquisitely bored.

One of Sakura's hands clenches into a fist around the blanket, as she takes a few deep breaths in order to calm herself. "…Hives," she says at last, sounding deceptively calm. "I broke out in hives. Lots and lots of bright red, _really_ itchy and _really _painful hives. All. Over. My. Face."

If she had told this completely miserable story to Ino or any other of her kunoichi friends, they would have been appropriately horrified and offered large amounts of hugs and sympathy, but Sakura _knows _that she should expect nothing of the sort from Itachi Uchiha and his absolutely flawless complexion. Predictably enough, Itachi looks her over once, his gaze lingering on her now perfectly creamy and unblemished skin, and _infuriatingly, _his lips twitch upward maybe one fraction of a centimeter before the miniscule expression of emotion passes, although the same degree of subtle amusement remains in his eyes.

Sakura moans aloud, before burying her face in her arms, and thinking that she that she _should _have known that she must have been hallucinating during those two minutes when she had been thinking that Itachi kind of maybe wasn't that bad at all. "Don't laugh," she orders, with muffled-sounding vehemence. "It _hurt_, and I couldn't go out for two days, because that's how long it took for the swelling to go down, and just to be safe, I tried the whole hair-dying thing again a few months later, and the same thing happened, except worse."

Itachi says nothing, but she can practically feel his smirk burning through her shoulder, and Sakura sits up straight again, before glaring at him indignantly. "Well?" she snaps, apparently recovered from her moment of distress. "What's _your _excuse?"

He blinks, somewhat nonplussed. "I was not aware that I needed one."

Sakura sighs exaggeratedly, stretching her legs out on the bed. "Well, yesterday you said that the rest of the Akatsuki isn't supposed to know that you're alive, not even your partner…Kisame. But here you are, wandering freely about – there's only one Akatsuki member with black hair and red eyes, and if Kisame or any of the other members somehow hear that he's been monopolizing the private sector of the Fire Country, they'll know for sure who he is. So, if you were really interested in staying undercover, you would probably dye your hair or get contacts or…something."

Despite some of her other questionable qualities, Itachi has to admit that this logic is impressive, especially coming from a girl a good five years younger than himself. "That would be beneath me," he replies simply.

Sakura stares, wondering if Itachi had just admitted that he was too proud of his distinctive features – which obviously mark him as the scion of the noble Uchiha clan – to consider concealing them, even on a temporary basis. "…You're joking, right?"

"Never," Itachi counters impassively, looking up at the ceiling. "However, the other members are scattered throughout the five countries, and I am the only operative within the Fire Country. Kisame and Zetsu are in Mist, currently, which is removed from here by quite a distance; the chances of them or any of the others hearing of my activities are slim to none."

As she cannot find any flaw in Itachi's answer, Sakura looks obviously disappointed, although the two of them soon settle into an almost comfortable silence. She can't help but curl her knees to her chest and smirk to herself as she remembers her thoughts of two nights ago when they had run into each other during her search for a towel, in that not being alone was nice, but having a late-night chat session with Itachi was definitely _not_ on a list of her top priorities. And, strangely enough, here they are, now – stretched out on the same bed, engaging in light conversation. This is almost too weird to bear, but at the same time, it _is _infinitely preferable to being curled up behind a waste receptacle, sharing breathing room with cockroaches and festering food.

Her brief reverie is interrupted by Itachi's clearing his throat lightly; she looks over at him, and he nods at the folded towel in her lap. Biting back a yawn, she hands it to him and he thanks her quietly, before slipping off the bed and silently padding over to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Sakura takes the welcome opportunity to slide under the covers, pulling them over her and burying her face in the pillow, lulled by the gentle sound of the shower, and later, the steady hum of the hairdryer.

The sounds are comforting and reassuring in their familiarity; in a way, it reminds her of when she, Sasuke, Naruto, and Kakashi-sensei had been an actual team. On missions, they would always let her shower and go to bed first, and she would fall asleep to the sounds of them getting ready to join her. The next thing she knew, she would wake up before them, the next morning, all of them tangled together, with one of her elbows planted in Naruto's throat, and Sasuke's face pressed lightly against her hair, while Kakashi-sensei snored contentedly in the next bed over.

Sakura is so lost in the bittersweet memories that she barely notices the lights going out, cloaking the room in darkness – save for the few specks of guttering streetlights that are still visible through the heavy curtains – and the slight dip of the mattress. It is only when she breathes in, dazedly registering the sharp, fresh scent of pine and spearmint, that Sakura realizes that she isn't alone any longer. Itachi is almost abnormally quiet, and it is only the smell of his shower gel and shampoo and the vague, natural warmth that his body gives off, contrasting with the cool sheets, that alerts her to his presence.

Somehow, Sakura thinks that she should be feeling nervous, or something like that, but she is too exhausted to really think straight, and besides, Itachi is all the way on the _other_ side of the bed, so there really should be nothing to worry about, anyway. "…Good night, Itachi," she says quietly, before pulling the shared blanket a little bit closer around herself.

This is such an unusual situation that Itachi almost forgets to reply, but at last, he makes a soft, noncommittal sound in the back of his throat in acknowledgement of her words. Not too long afterward, he hears Sakura's breathing quiet into a deep, even rhythm that just barely causes her slender, orange-clad shoulders to rise and fall.

It always takes him the longest amount of time to fall asleep under normal circumstances, and this experience is so utterly novel that it is well near impossible. Itachi lies, perfectly still, on his back and stares at the ceiling for at least an hour and a half, thinking restless thoughts and trying his best to ignore the girl a few feet away from him. This proves to be rather difficult, considering her incessant mumblings and the fact that she has tossed and turned in her small personal bubble of space until the blankets have knotted around her waist. It just proves to be his luck that Sakura is as restless and lacking in quiet during sleep as she is during the day, and Itachi sighs softly as she twists in her sleep, inadvertently positioning herself nearer to the edge of the mattress, before murmuring an indistinct series of names under her breath.

Itachi forces himself to take a few deep breaths and attempt to settle into some form of meditation, and this almost works, until his concentration is abruptly shattered by a muffled gasp. His eyes fly open, their normal charcoal-gray colored darker with exhaustion and irritation, and instinctually, Itachi looks over to his right side sharply.

It is only his naturally quick reaction time that enables him to shoot out one hand, which closes into a tight fist around the loose material of the back of Sakura's orange shirt, before Itachi firmly pulls the troublesomely unlucky girl fully back onto the bed, as far from the edge as possible. Too late, he realizes _that _means that she is far too close to him, and Itachi regrets his spontaneous act of kindness in the very next moment, when Sakura turns in her sleep, buries _her_ fists into the front of his shirt, and rests her forehead against his chest contentedly, in the process, veritably snuggling up to him.

Itachi freezes, his normally impassive countenance shattering and leaving behind nothing less than total, utter mortification.

(Damn it _all_ to hell; he should have just let her fall off the bed in the first place.)

Besides dying, this easily has to be the most uncomfortable sensation that Itachi has ever experienced, because they're _touching_ far too much and he can feel her light, even breathing against his chest, and every time _he_ inhales, he is forcibly assaulted by her too-sweet strawberry scent. After a few highly awkward moments, Itachi tries to extricate himself from her hold as best as he can without waking her – after all, this position is far too suggestive to explain away. His efforts are largely futile; for every attempt he makes to wrest himself away, Sakura just holds on tighter.

In the end, Itachi almost flinchingly settles one of his arms around her, so that it wraps around her slim waist, and his hand rests lightly on her back. Thankfully, she doesn't even stir, and he takes the opportunity to inch the hand on her back up to the base of her neck, trying not to think about his hand being separated from Sakura's warm, bare skin by nothing more than that ramen-scented orange fabric. It is an agonizingly nerve-crawling experience on his part, although Sakura merely sighs in her sleep and unconsciously presses herself even closer to him, moving one of her arms to wrap around his neck, while her other hand flattens itself over his heart.

This is disturbing enough to interrupt Itachi's concentration for a moment, but after that, he finds the pressure point at the very base of the back of her neck quickly and easily. Without sparing even another second, he presses three of his fingers into it, a little bit harder than necessary, and even in her peacefully sleeping – and now, semi-unconscious – state, Sakura whimpers a little as all of her muscles go completely limp. Even if she had been conscious, she would not have been able to resist as Itachi unwinds her arms from around his neck, before somewhat stiffly settling the pink-haired kunoichi on her back, so that she is a more acceptable distance from him, although still not too close to the edge of the bed.

Itachi collapses back into his place on the bed, then, battling the beginnings of a headache and feeling rather exasperated when he catches himself unconsciously listening for the slower, almost-painful drag of Sakura's breathing. He knows that he cannot feel _guilty_ – for the kami's sake, what else could he have done; let her lie in his arms all night?

Itachi fights the urge to scoff at the thought – after all, that would hardly be a realistic prospect.

As the minutes drag on, he stares at a dark red stain on the ceiling moodily, but to his dismay, Sakura isn't too far from his thoughts then, either.

If Kisame were here, he would have asked why the _hell_ Itachi had even saved her to begin with. Because Itachi may be many things, but he is not the kind of man who would ever think it acceptable to sit back and silently witness the slaughter of the defenseless – because Sakura's chakra had been completely drained, and even though she is an A-ranked kunoichi, she is absolutely nothing without it. He had recognized her immediately, as well; as the legendary Godaime's apprentice…and his younger brother's former teammate.

It had been an unusual action for him, one born purely out of impulse, and Itachi cannot even remember the last time he had acted on something so inconsequential. But, of course, he had not foreseen this; he had expected to save the girl, interrogate her, and then part ways, once and for all. The encounter the next afternoon at the museum could have been coincidence, but seeing Sakura, dripping wet and irate, on her nonsensical quest for a _towel, _of all things, later that very night, had been…worrying. And, of course, coming across her on this latest, three-day long assignment was downright perturbing.

Itachi frowns, rather displeased; as ridiculous as it sounds, it is becoming rather apparent that _some_ sort of force is dead-set on pushing the two of them together, and he really does not know how he is supposed to feel about that.

_Everything happens for a reason._

It had been one of his mother's favorite phrases, and Itachi doesn't necessarily like to admit it, but there can be no question that this statement obviously applies to his…situation. The question, of course, is _why_ the kami seem to think that he requires the company of an outrageously emotional, albeit powerful, pink-haired chunin.

Itachi closes his eyes, and tries to think, because he knows that the answer is near at hand – if he can only manage to find it.

Not one week ago, he had saved Sakura from certain death at the hands of the Root squad.

Five years ago, he had saved Sasuke from falling victim to the cruel machinations of Konoha's leadership.

Eight years ago, he had saved a kitten from drowning in a river.

That is it – the extent of his acts of _heroism_, and Itachi smirks ironically and a little unpleasantly as he thinks of the word.

The last instance had happened a little less than a decade ago, and even Itachi's brilliant mind has let this long-forgotten memory fade, a little. From what he remembers, he had been training in a clearing with Shisui one summer evening, and Sasuke had been following along, as usual…

-

_Itachi and Shisui are engaged in one of their customary spars, in the center of the clearing, while Sasuke, who is supposed to be practicing something or another, merely ends up wandering over to the nearby river to throw rocks into it. After about fifteen minutes of this, he spots a little tabby cat being swept along by the current, and reaches forward to try and get to it. _

_In a moment of distraction, Shisui is the one to notice Sasuke leaning dangerously close into the water, and in the next fraction of a second, he is across the clearing, holding Sasuke back. Sasuke yells and kicks Shisui in the shins repeatedly; such is his agitation, and Itachi's sharp eyes easily catch the cause for it. He doesn't recall actually, consciously making the decision to save the cat, but he looks at Sasuke, who is biting his lip to ribbons, looking like he is trying his hardest to keep from crying, and the next thing Itachi knows, he is wet and bleeding from the sharp rocks, a little, holding a damp, mewling ball of fur in his arms. Sasuke stares at him with nothing less than openmouthed admiration, and Shisui whistles and punches him in the shoulder, before telling him that if he utilized that kind of speed in combat, he would be the scariest thing ever._

_Itachi doesn't say anything, and just cradles the still-meowing kitten a little awkwardly, before setting off for home, trailed by Sasuke and Shisui. It is a short walk, and within the matter of a few minutes, he stands in the red-and-orange sunset-lit kitchen, dripping all over the meticulously-cleaned wooden floors, and he holds the curious-looking little cat out to his mother. "Here," he says quietly, and Mikoto Uchiha reaches forward to take the kitten quickly, before beginning to automatically check it for injuries, even as she looks toward her two sons inquisitively. _

"_I was playing near the river and I saw it and I think it fell in somehow and I was going to jump in and save it but Itachi nii-san did it instead and it was _so awesome_," the eight-year-old Sasuke replies quickly, all in one breath, and still looking utterly amazed at what he had witnessed._

_Shisui peers at the kitten curiously. "Is it going to be all right?"_

_Itachi just stands and stares at the kitten as it bats at his mother playfully, and she smiles at it affectionately, before gathering the small cat up in her arms. "It's perfectly fine; just a little startled," Mikoto gives a gentle reassurance, stroking the tip of its nose with a finger. "I suppose the poor thing just got separated from its litter and fell in the river, somehow – maybe in pursuit of a fish? It was far too small to resist the current, in any case…"_

_To Itachi's mingled surprise and horror, Mikoto cheerfully deposits the kitten back in his arms, and it gnaws on one of his arm guards, its spirits obviously undisturbed by the encounter in the river. "What…" Itachi trails off, mortified, his usual composure abandoning him as he tries his best to hand the kitten back to her. "I do not want this…thing, Mother."_

"_I'll take it!" Shisui interjects eagerly. _

_Mikoto smoothes a long lock of hair behind Itachi's ear gently, before smiling at Shisui. "It is a Chinese proverb," she says, by way of explanation, before taking a seat at the kitchen table again, in front of her medical scrolls, and nodding to the little kitten that Itachi is trying his best to figure out how to hold. "You saved her, so…she's yours, now."_

_Itachi stares blankly. _

_Meanwhile, Sasuke actually swells a few inches due to sheer excitement, and he tugs at Itachi's sleeve, trying to get a better look at the yawning kitten. "Nii-san, this is so cool; you get to feed her and pet her and wash her and play with her and carry her around everywhere and take care of her forever and ever—" _

_Itachi looks mildly revolted at this prospect, and Mikoto coughs to hide a laugh, before hugging her younger son close. "Actually, Sasuke sounds like he has the right idea." _

_Shisui walks forward and scratches the kitten behind the ears, grinning. "If you don't think that you can handle her, Itachi, I'll take her. Maybe Mother will let me, if I tell her that it was decreed by some Chinese proverb or something…"_

_The kitten bites Itachi's finger, although Itachi is too busy resenting the implication that he, Itachi Uchiha, ANBU Captain, would be unable to _handle_ something as mundane as the act of caring for a small cat, to notice the tiny prick of pain. "…Very well," he pronounces, at last, before lifting the kitten to eye level and eyeing it suspiciously._

_The kitten meows softly and licks Itachi on the nose, – and, well, the normally-stoic teenager doesn't melt _visibly_, but he also wastes no time in enlisting Sasuke and Shisui to accompany him to the market in order to purchase some fresh fish for its sustenance._

_-_

Itachi blinks, and in this rare moment of unguarded emotion, he looks almost as agitated as he had on the moment when his mother had first deposited the kitten into his arms.

There are _so many _things wrong with the sudden memory that could have possibly served as his mind's subconscious reasoning that he does not even want to think about all of them. First of all, Itachi is almost completely sure that his mother would be the _first_ to agree that the Chinese proverb that she had quoted only applies to kittens rescued from rivers, and most certainly _not_ pink-haired fifteen-year-old females.

As if in assent, Sakura mumbles something in her sleep and pulls the blankets closer around herself.

Itachi gives a world-weary sigh, resting the back of his left hand against his forehead rather broodingly. Sakura does not mask her chakra while sleeping – he can sense the incredibly immense, raw force of it ebbing and flowing lightly with every breath that she takes. He has never seen her in combat firsthand, but according to her profile, Sakura is capable of shattering solid stone walls to dust with a single punch, or even less; she _had_ been skilled enough to defeat Sasori, after all. Relating her to a kitten, of all things, even subconsciously, would undoubtedly be incredibly idiotic and nonsensical of anyone who even considered making such a connection.

And lastly, Itachi has no desire for Sakura to be _his_, in any way, because that implies the matter of _possession; _not only does he find that idea distasteful in this particular context, Itachi hardly thinks that Sakura will take it kindly if he wakes her up the next morning, only to inform her that, due to an impulsive action of his, she is inextricably bound to him, and vice versa, 'forever' – in Sasuke's words, ironically enough – thanks to the weighty decree of a Chinese proverb.

If Sakura were to _choose_ to stay with him, however—

Itachi's eyes actually snap open as he looks over at her, almost incredulously.

He knows that he should not allow himself to entertain such impractical thoughts, but he cannot deny that it would be rather…

Sakura suddenly turns on her side, apparently recovering a little from the pressure point hit, and Itachi evades the potential risk adeptly, before pressing her arms back near her face at an awkward angle, just in case.

Knowing that this will require a great deal more thought, Itachi finally closes his eyes again, and because he has already lost hours, finally forces himself to fall into a troubled sleep.

-

_The Next Morning_

-

Sakura wakes up completely numb and limp.

It is an unsettling, disorienting feeling, and she is alarmed to see that she cannot really do anything more besides pull herself up into a half-sitting position in the bed. It takes her a few more moments to get her bearings, and thankfully, when she sees Itachi sitting beside her, staring at the wall in what appears to be intense contemplation, she manages to bite back the instinctive response of screeching and falling off the bed.

Noticing the movement at his side, Itachi glances over at her; she looks almost endearingly confused and sleep-ruffled, although he can see her weakened arm muscles trembling with the force of supporting her upper body against the mattress. "Good morning," he says impassively.

To her displeasure, Sakura cannot manage anything all too coherent in response, as wraps her arms around herself with a slight whimper of dismay. From her studies of the human anatomy, she knows that nothing could have created this particular feeling of utter lassitude in her muscles save for chakra exhaustion (which was not a factor), being subjected to Neji or Hinata Hyuuga's Sixty-Four Strikes (which was also not a factor, although if it meant that she could be back in Konoha, she would gladly subject herself to the painful technique a hundred times over)…or being the recipient of a particularly thorough deep tissue massage, aided by release of one's pressure points. And somehow, Sakura doubts that Itachi had done _that_ for her.

"Did I do anything weird in my sleep last night, or something?" she asks weakly, placing a hand over her eyes to block out the late-morning sunlight streaming in through the curtains from reaching her eyes; hell, she can't even remember the last time she had slept in for so long.

Itachi briefly toys with the idea of telling her that she had nearly flung herself off the bed with the degree of her subconscious fretfulness, before displaying a marked inability to keep her hands to herself, to the point where he had to subdue her for both of their sakes. Then he realizes that if he were to tell her that, Sakura would likely have an aneurism out of sheer self-hatred and mortification, and Itachi has no desire to deal with _that_ this early in the day.

"Not that I can recall," he replies dryly.

Sakura mumbles something unhappy and indistinct in response, closing her eyes against the unwelcome influx of sunlight into the room as outside, a cloud passes from over the sun. If it were not for the fact that all her strength seems to have deserted her, she would rather enjoy this novel experience of being able to simply lie in bed and relax. After a few minutes, she swallows over her dry throat. "What are you – um, _we_ – going to do until the evening?"

"Nothing," Itachi flips his book of contacts shut, before returning it to his place on the bedside table. "There are no towns within a few hours' traveling distance of here," he says, by way of explanation, and then nods to two, covered fragrant-smelling bowls in the corner of the room. "However, there is food there, if you require sustenance."

"We," Sakura corrects automatically, eyeing the bowls curiously. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, you know – so you can't just skip it. Besides, I don't eat _that_ much." She pauses, sniffing slightly. "What is it, anyway?"

"…Ramen."

Sakura eases herself back against the pillows, which she had propped against the headboard, and closes her eyes. "So unhealthy," she murmurs, as if she isn't talking to him, but to somebody else, even as a small smile touches her face.

-

It takes her another hour and a half for her muscles to return to normal, but Sakura and Itachi spend the rest of the day in their room nevertheless, simply because there is nothing else that they can possibly do. Itachi stares at the pages of a book that he has read several times before, his thoughts completely engaged elsewhere, while Sakura manages to find a thick, particularly interesting, medical text in his small personal library and pores over it, utterly absorbed. She asks him a question about a certain poison extraction technique once, to which he replies that the book had originally been Sasori's, and he really has no knowledge of it. Sakura drops the book as if burned, and it is a good ten minutes later when she finally brings herself to pick it up again.

It is a surprisingly comfortable situation; even though neither of them would never admit to it, both Itachi and Sakura have been alone for so long that the company of the other is thoroughly welcome.

-

_Later That Night…_

-

"There's somebody here."

Itachi looks at her sharply, as Sakura steps over an exposed tree root and looks around the dark forest, her green eyes wide and alert. "What makes you think so?" he asks levelly; after all, this is the last night of their assignment, and it would be quite inconvenient if the operative sent by the crime syndicate chooses _now_ to strike.

"I can feel them," she replies simply. "Their chakra must be completely masked, but still…"

Itachi closes his eyes for a moment in thought. "I will take the western area of the forest, and you will patrol the east," he decrees, at last.

This is likely the best course of action – after all, both of them are more than capable of dealing with the target on their own, and time is of the essence here, but Sakura still feels a slight chill of foreboding, even as she nods once and takes a step back, disappearing into the cover granted by the trees.

It is completely dark, now, and she keeps all five of her senses utterly alert as she slinks through the forest. It is a frustrating feeling, just being able to barely sense the foreign presence lingering there, although never being able to get a complete lock on its location. After the better part of an hour spent in pursuit of the elusive presence, she is in the darkest, deepest realms of the forest, and Sakura's nerves are stretched to their breaking point.

Somewhere in front of her, a twig snaps, and Sakura immediately takes a wary step backwards, ready to take cover behind the nearest tree until she can deduce what exactly had—

Before she can even finish her thought, she collides with something that is most definitely _not_ any form of forest vegetation, and in the next fraction of a second, she is pinned against a tree – Sakura hadn't even realized she had given a small, strangled scream until she feels the hand pressed firmly against her mouth.

"What will it take for you trust me?" Itachi inquires rhetorically, and once he judges the girl to be recovered from her shock, he removes his hand.

His thumb trails lightly along Sakura's bottom lip as it goes, and she unconsciously turns her head a fraction of an inch, prolonging the contact for another moment. "Sorry," she manages, once she is able. "I just heard something – and you startled me, I didn't realize…"

Itachi looks at her, his expression inscrutable, before offering a hand to help her find her way out of the tangle of tree roots. She notices that he smells subtly of the metallic tang of blood, now, and Sakura looks up at him curiously. "What—"

"I disposed of the assassin approximately twenty minutes ago, and I became tired of waiting for you," Itachi smirks.

"So charming," Sakura mumbles under her breath, before giving him a dirty look.

Itachi's eyes narrow a fraction of an inch. "How would you feel about Chinese food for dinner, Sakura?" he inquires silkily.

Sakura glares at him and mutters something decidedly vitriolic under her breath.

"…What was that?"

"Nothing!"

-

For the second time in about as many days, Itachi finds himself sitting across from Sakura, after dinner at the shrimp tempura shack, impassively watching her delicately sip her lemonade out of a plastic straw. "Well," she says, setting her glass down and offering him a small, uncertain smile, and struggling a little with what she is about to say. "…I never thought I would ever say this, but it's actually been kind of nice, hasn't it?"

Itachi regards her evenly, too lost in his thoughts to properly answer the question. "What are the chances that we will encounter each other after this, Sakura?" he asks, at last.

The question takes her by surprise, and Sakura blinks. "Statistically, they should be zero to none," she replies slowly, taking a few moments to think about it. "I mean, the Fire Country's a huge place; according to all reason and logic, we shouldn't even have kept running into each other as much as we have. But…" she hesitates, trailing off, and stirs her straw in her glass thoughtfully. "It hasn't exactly worked like that so far, has it?"

Itachi inclines his head slightly, in acknowledgement of her words. "Do you have any set destination in mind?"

Sakura shakes her head, looking down at her feet. "I have two or three years – at least," she says softly, remembering Jiraiya's estimate, "…to kill. I'm kind of just wandering around and doing what I can to keep myself alive. I'd like to stay in the Fire Country for as long as I can, although if I have too many close calls with the Root hunters, I may have to…relocate, and I guess I'll just keep moving north."

For the members of Akatsuki, crossing country lines are an inconsequential matter; they have roamed the length of the world four times over, but Itachi can tell that for Sakura, the mere thought of leaving the relative familiarity of the Fire Country, her last vestiges of home, behind, is a difficult prospect. "What about you?" she asks curiously. "Although I assume that, since you're raising funds, you're probably just ranging through this side of the world and reporting back to Rain periodically."

Itachi raises an eyebrow, even though by now, he has become accustomed to her sharpness. "Impressive."

"I try," she smirks.

Silence falls over them, and Sakura examines her hands, trying to ignore the wash of homesickness that is flooding over her, at the reminder that she will be spending at _least_ the next two or three years on her own. She misses home, and stability, and her parents – lost before all this had even begun – and her friends, and _not_ living such a lonely, unsettled life. Itachi seems to have no problem with it, but he has had five years to adjust, and besides, they are so very different. He is solitary by nature, but she was never cut out for this.

"If we run into each other again—"

"If you so desired, you could stay—"

Itachi and Sakura both stop dead, staring at each other, and Sakura can see her own shocked expression echoing in his eyes. "Do you mean—" she begins quickly, before he can even open his mouth to speak.

"—Yes," Itachi interrupts, before she can finish.

It takes a few moments for this to sink in, but when it does, Sakura's eyes only widen further. "…Why?"

Itachi regards her for a few long moments. "My reasons," he says quietly, his gaze never leaving hers, "are my own."

Sakura rakes her gloved fingers through her hair, feeling rather overwhelmed by this completely unprecedented new development, and the weight of his dark gray eyes on her. Thankfully, she controls herself and doesn't respond with an instinctive refusal, like she had on the night when he first told her that she could stay with him, but…

"Can I think about this for a little while?" Sakura asks, at last, fidgeting uncomfortably. This is kind of a big deal, after all, and she doesn't want to do something that she will regret later—

"Of course," Itachi acquiesces, if a little awkwardly.

They make their way back to the inn in mutual silence, and settle in for the night in a state of similar quiet. Sakura is the first to break it, when she slides down in the bed, deciding to abandon the pursuit of toweling her damp hair. "By morning?" she offers tentatively.

Itachi nods and reclaims the towel, before soundlessly slipping into the bathroom.

In her solitude, Sakura allows herself the luxury of a long, tormented sigh, before she pulls the blankets over her head irritably and closes her eyes.

It's going to be a _hell_ of a long night, and Sakura doesn't think that it's going to be spent getting a restful and relaxing sleep, either.

* * *

_to be continued_

* * *

:O

Just for the record, I love it when you guys ask me questions in reviews, because then I can answer them in the next chapter. Like, in this one, I tried to clear up why Sakura can't dye her rather conspicuous hair, and why Itachi doesn't feel like taking more care to disguise himself, seeing as he is supposedly dead…you get the picture.

By the way, the ancient Chinese proverb that Mikoto quoted to Itachi regarding the kitten is actually genuine – I saw it on some program on the Discovery Channel a little while ago. It was something along the lines of, once you actively make a choice to save a person, they are your responsibility, forever. Whether that played a part in Itachi's offer to Sakura; well, that's just for me to know. For now, at least. :D

As always, feedback is very much appreciated. :)


	6. Misjudgment

_Once again, thank you so much to everybody who reviewed. :) I had a few questions about these things – one, the timeline is similar, but this is _not_ a sequel to Requiem, my Itachi-centric and canon!ItaSaku oneshot of a couple of months ago. Still, if you would like to read that and review it, of course, it would be very much appreciated anyway. :D Also, yeah, in the last chapter, Itachi did (very awkwardly) attempt to tell Sakura that he wouldn't be opposed to traveling with her – like partners, or something. Which brings us to where we left off…_

_-_

_Chapter Six: Misjudgment _

_-_

Sakura lies awake in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, for most of the night. Physically, she is exhausted, but her mind is whirring frantically, trying to make sense of the situation she has somehow found herself in.

Itachi's breathing is so quiet she has to strain to hear it, and he lies perfectly still on his side, his back facing her. Oddly enough, Sakura notices that even in sleep, his long ponytail remains silkily sleek and untangled – which, of course, just gives her yet _another_ reason to glare balefully at the peacefully unaware Uchiha.

If she looks at it solely on the basis of pure logic, Sakura has to acknowledge that the arrangement he had suggested _would_ be extremely beneficial for both of them. Her first month out of Konoha had taught her that she did have certain…vulnerabilities, and traveling with somebody as (_freakingscaryinsanelyterrifyingtoofrightening, _Inner Sakura contributes helpfully_) _– well, _imposing_ as Itachi, would effectively grant her immunity to just about every single concern as to her own personal safety that she has.

On Itachi's part, however…

Well, logic tells her that he _must_ have his reasons, but as far as she is concerned, they are an utter mystery.

Sakura knows that she can be good company, and under the right circumstances, one of the best friends that anybody could ever ask for. But despite herself, she gives a humorless smirk at that thought – somehow, she's having a hard time wrapping her head around the idea of Itachi making an offer of that magnitude to her because, now that he has been separated from Kisame, he's…in the market for a new best friend? Or traveling partner? Or…whatever it is that she is to him, or that he _wants_ her to be?

Sakura rolls over on her stomach and gives a muffled snarl of unhappiness into her pillow. She doesn't know what to think, and for somebody of her nature, it is the most unfamiliar and uncomfortable feeling ever.

She has received similar offers before, from Naruto and Tenten, respectively, but she hadn't been in a position where she had been ready or willing to accept, then. Those had been two of her closest and most trusted friends, too; an exclusive group which Itachi most certainly isn't a part of. However, from what little she knows of him, and the way he has treated her so far, Sakura cannot deny that he is nothing like the cold, psychopathic murderer that she – and the rest of Konoha – had believed he was. It is true that Itachi is every bit as calculating, icy, cynically impassive, and utterly enigmatic as she expected from somebody with his reputation…but he also seems surprisingly—

Sakura frowns again, deep in thought, as she searches for the right term.

(_Consideratecourteousactuallygentlealmostcaringkindofsortoflivablewith?) _Inner Sakura contributes obligingly, as she obviously hasn't even come close to sorting out her polarized opinions regarding the elder Uchiha. Meanwhile, Sakura scowls and decides to settle on _decent,_ an acceptably vague conglomeration of all of the above sentiments, because honestly, despite her burgeoning…familiarity…with Itachi, attaching any of those adjectives to him is still something that just doesn't feel right, yet, and she closes her eyes, before lapsing deep into thought.

-

_The Next Morning_

-

To Itachi's mild surprise, by the time he wakes up the next morning, quickly and easily, as he always does, the formerly Sakura-occupied space on the bed is empty. He blinks once, slowly sitting up and brushing a few disheveled locks of hair out of his eyes, and his gaze re-focuses, only to find her already dressed in her usual clothes, save for those knee-length boots, and painstakingly drying her hair with his towel. She rests against the small ledge in front of the window, basking in the few weak rays of sunlight that filter in through the heavy curtains. The light warms her visibly, catching in the strong color of her eyes and hair and reflecting them a bright mint green and that vivid strawberry-milk pink, respectively.

Sakura is too lost in her own thoughts to notice his few moments of intense scrutiny, although when Itachi stands and begins making his way to the bathroom, she looks up at him, startled, before offering a somewhat tentative smile. "Good morning."

Itachi mumbles something that could legitimately qualify as a reply (because despite his usual ease in waking up, he is not a morning person by any means), before closing the door behind him. As soon as she is granted that small measure of privacy, Sakura folds the towel and heads to the bed, sinking down on it with a long sigh. She twists her hands together in her lap and stares down at them, feeling her stomach fold itself into tighter and tighter knots by the moment. After a while, the silence, broken only by the soft sound of cascading water from the shower and later, the hum of the hairdryer starts to get to her, and Sakura gets up and begins to pace the length of the room, before triple-checking her bag to make sure that she has everything ready.

Meanwhile, Itachi takes a few moments to run his simple black comb through the length of his now-dry hair and secure it in its customary low ponytail, and it is only his sheer degree of cultivated icy self-control that allows him to keep _not _thinking about what Sakura's answer to his proposition will be. He has taken care to keep his mind carefully blank regarding that particular topic since last night, and he straightens his customary Akatsuki cloak and gives himself one last dispassionate glance in the mirror, before sweeping outside of the small room.

The moment she sees Itachi, Sakura shoulders her bag and pulls herself to her feet, before bridging the distance between them in a few short steps, while her resolve is still reasonably strong. She is clutching a few sheets of paper in a white-knuckled fist and nibbling a little on her lower lip, as he has noticed that she does when feeling uncomfortable, so Itachi merely regards her evenly, waiting for whatever it is that she has to say.

Sakura takes another deep, calming breath, before forcing herself to look up at him, meeting his dark gaze. "I know I said this already," she begins, a little shyly. "But I can't really thank you enough for…everything that you've done for me." And for a few moments, she can't remember why she is doing this, but then Inner Sakura supplies her reasons for her – _living together, in essence, would be too intimate, too much too soon, not just yet _– and Sakura closes her eyes for a moment. "I'm sorry," she murmurs at last, looking down at her boots. "It's just – I don't think I can, right now – but if or when we ever run into each other again…" and Sakura trails off and looks up at him in a rare moment of almost-plaintiveness, willing him to understand.

She is tripping over her words so much that it takes him a moment to comprehend her meaning, but when he does, Itachi inclines his head a fraction of an inch, keeping his expression as carefully impassive as always. Then, taking that as a good sign, Sakura steels herself, before reaching out and taking one of his hands in her own. The sudden action certainly gets his unwavering attention; obviously, he hadn't been expecting _that,_ and Itachi stiffens drastically and tries to pull back. Before he can do so, she quickly stuffs the pages of ripped-out food vouchers into his grip and releases him of her own accord, as Itachi blinks at the papers. "Use them," Sakura says in a rush, "You know, two meals a day _at least,_ and take care of yourself and stuff, and—"

It is a split-second decision born out of what she is convinced is nothing less than sheer, stupid impetuousness, but she is too far gone to retreat just now. Her boots grant her a scant couple of inches, and he is still far too tall, so before she can lose her nerve, Sakura takes a quick breath and flings her arms around Itachi's shoulders, inadvertently pressing herself up against the lean, muscled length of his chest, before stretching up on the very tips of her toes and giving him a soft, quick kiss on the cheek. "Knowing my luck," she murmurs softly, her lips just barely brushing his skin, "I'll probably run into you again by the end of the day, but still – thank you _so_ much."

Upon faced with such an untoward situation of such extreme caliber, Itachi actually freezes in place for a few moments, as a defense mechanism, his eyes widening and his body tensing even further. Before he can even think about reacting in any way, though, Sakura vanishes into thin air in her usual swirl of flowers and in the next second, apart from a few stray cherry blossom petals and the papers he holds in his right hand, there is nothing in the room that could do anything to even indicate her former presence.

In solitude, Itachi allows his fingers to curl around one of the petals, and before his better judgment can kick in, he quietly slips one of the small flowers into the inner pocket of his cloak and sits down on what had formerly been Sakura's side of the bed, completely unsure of what to think.

-

Despite her best efforts, Sakura spends the entire rest of the day looking thrice at any man with long, dark hair that she happens to even catch a glimpse of out of the corner of her eye. During the two separate assignments she performs, whenever she finds herself indoors, she inches through hallways, turns around every few minutes to glance behind her in nothing less than absolute paranoia, and even looks around corners with the help of her small compact mirror first. For the few hours that she is forced to be outside, while searching for some rich lord's rare runaway pet peacock, Sakura avoids any remotely dark and shadowy areas at all costs.

When she finds a respectable inn and checks in for the night, before stepping into the shower, she makes sure to check twice that she has a towel and all other necessary amenities. Afterward, she lies on her hard bed and stares blankly at the wall, straining her chakra in an attempt to sense any remotely familiar chakra signatures within the small motel.

Sakura exists in this state of utter and complete wariness for a week straight before she even begins to relax fractionally; she brushes past dark-haired men on the street and only looks after them twice, while re-learning how to enter and effectively hunt her human prey in forests without being paralyzed with fright. After another couple of weeks, she goes back to her relative state of 'normalcy,' and the only time she thinks about Itachi is at night, when she is curled up in bed, hugging a pillow to her chest, while slowly drifting off to sleep. Most of the time, she drowsily wonders what things could have been like, if the two of them had…well, it would have been a lot less lonely, for sure, but most of the time, Sakura tries not to think about that, because she absolutely despises second-guessing herself. It only leads to regrets, and she definitely has enough of those already.

-

She tries her best to keep herself from thinking about it too much, and once again resorts to living life in a state of semi-autopilot. This month marks her seventh as a missing-nin, and it brings some changes, due to the latest assignment that she has accepted. For the first time since leaving Konoha, her systematic search through her book of contacts has brought her to a large, actual metropolitan center, and Sakura finds herself contracting with a certain small crime syndicate on a temporary basis – as their spy, assigned to pose as an operative to a rival syndicate, all while gathering information for _her _actual employers.

It isn't something she had ever thought she would do, but the terms of the contractor's offer had been too good to pass up. For the first time in seven months, she has a residence that actually isn't a cramped room in an inn; all syndicate operatives are offered small, fully-furnished apartments of their own, along with a miniscule (but still useful) allowance for food. In addition, she won't be the only missing-nin spy infiltrating the rival syndicate – according to the contractor, she will be collaborating two others, both Grass missing-nin who are approximately her age. The boss had hinted that they were male, and of course, when that happened, Sakura couldn't help but think of Naruto and Sai. Naruto was probably still off in Waterfall or somewhere in the area, training with Jiraiya, and Sai…well, after the coup, Sai had refused to reassimilate into the ranks of Root and swear unquestioning allegiance to Danzou as Hokage. To everybody's surprise, Danzou hadn't ordered him killed – he still considered Sai to have the potential to be a valuable weapon in the future, and instead, had exiled him to a remote Root base at the very edge of the Fire Country in order to be "retrained," and Sakura had closed her eyes against the memory, before murmuring her soft assent to the contractor.

At first, she hadn't thought that taking this particular assignment would be a good idea – after all, it is a relatively long-term mission, as her services will be required for a month. She has never stayed so long in one place, because of the two Root teams that are after her, but in the end, convenience wins over caution, and that is how Sakura finds herself holding the keys to her new apartment in one hand, and a box of Chinese takeout in the other. She shuts the door behind her and looks around, taking in the sparse furniture and uniformly gray décor, before wordlessly crossing over to the plain sofa and taking a seat, stretching her legs out in front of her and looking down at her sesame chicken unenthusiastically.

Dinner is a quiet, withdrawn affair, as usual. Afterward, Sakura leans her head back against the cushions and closes her eyes wearily, hoping beyond all hope that her upcoming assignment and new team will be enough to distract her from the ever-present threat of falling into some sort of depression born out of sheer apathy and utter loneliness. That kind of mood is what she has been fighting since day one, and she has no intention of allowing herself to lapse into such a negative state of mind. But at the same time, it is just _so_ hard to believe that this is what she must get used to for the next two or three years at least, and…

…oh, kami, she _does_ regret it.

Sakura groans aloud and rakes her gloved fingers through her hair, dismayed beyond belief. Now is _not_ the time to be regretting anything, or thinking decidedly inappropriate what-could-have-been thoughts regarding somebody like _him,_ of all people, and she sighs despairingly. After getting up and tossing her empty box of food on the table, she heads to the small bedroom, stifling a yawn as she goes. She will meet her new 'team' first thing tomorrow morning, after all…which means that she _has_ to have better things to think about, anyway.

-

_Don't be nervous._

_You have no reason to be nervous. _

…_And please try not to think about how that brunette guy looks like Sai, or how the redhead could easily be Kiba's twin—_

Sakura winces at herself. It's too late for that.

The three teenaged missing-nin direct discreetly appraising looks at each other, none of them saying a word. They spend a few torturously long minutes in silence, before the redhead sneaks another glance at her and snorts, before turning his head toward the brunette at his side. "_This _is the third person on our team? Some little pink-haired _princess_?"

The brown-haired boy coughs to hide a laugh as soon as he takes a look at the expression on the _pink-haired princess_'s face.

After Sakura casually taps her foot on the floor, a ten-foot-deep crater emerges in the earth underneath them, easily swallowing the Grass missing-nin and his head of ridiculous, jaggedly chopped scarlet-colored hair. The brunette gapes openmouthed for a few seconds, before bounding to the edge of the crater and peering into it in order to check to see if his comrade is still alive.

After a few moments, Sakura saunters over casually and looks down into the pit. The redhead is still lying on his back, apparently dazed, but otherwise fine, and he stares up at her, aghast. "What—"

"For future reference…" she smiles sweetly. "I prefer to be called by my name. _Sakura._"

-

After the rather inauspicious first meeting, they do well, despite the fact that the brunette, Takashi, is too quiet, and the redhead, Ryo, is an obnoxious mixture of the worst qualities of both Naruto and Kiba. Within the first day, all three of them manage to worm their way into the rival crime syndicate; Takashi and Ryo are both specialists in the art of information-gathering, somewhat like Shino, Kiba, and Hinata had been. That has never been Sakura's forte, but the two of them _do_ try their best to help her learn, and before the week is out, they are already carrying valuable information back to their contractor. The three of them develop a healthy mutual respect for one another, although to Sakura's dismay, the _Princess _title sticks, and it soon becomes her radio codename.

It isn't an ideal situation by any means, but it is a slight improvement over the way things had been. It gives Sakura a stable location and source of income, and the life of a spy definitely keeps her on her toes. The constant danger is to be expected, and the lonely, silent nights do not become any easier, but Sakura thinks that she might be getting used to them.

-

_Three Weeks Later_

-

Kakashi-sensei always used to tell them that complacency was a dangerous thing.

When she had been young, Sakura had just dismissed his warnings as just some _more _of his typically enigmatic statements, but for some reason, the general principle sticks with her, anyway.

And now she knows why.

The leader of the rival crime syndicate stands at the front of his office, his hands clasped behind his back as he dispassionately surveys the row of new recruits in front of him. Sakura keeps her eyes determinedly on the floor, just like everybody else – just like Takashi, three people from her on the left, and Ryo, who is all the way at the very end of the line – as he begins to speak. He is a dark-cloaked man of very few words, but the short, simple sentences do their part to send a shiver down her spine.

"There are spies in our midst," he says succinctly, before inclining his head to the man at his right side, almost as if in thanks. Sakura can't help but look up curiously, and promptly recognizes him from the contractor's description – the individual thus indicated, with his handsome, lanky form and shoulder-length blonde hair, is one of this syndicate's two intelligence experts. He has clear, penetrating blue eyes, a little darker than the cornflower-blue of Ino's and Naruto's, although they are ice-cold, and lacking any of that infectious warmth. Considering his role as an intelligence expert, he _would_ be the one to have somehow detected their presence, and Sakura swears mentally, looking down again and hoping that he hadn't noticed her few moments of scrutiny.

She hadn't realized that the boss had been speaking again, but she begins listening just in time to hear him finish. "…We know who you are," he concludes calmly, his gaze sweeping the row. "You will be exposed, interrogated, and subsequently disposed of. You have been warned."

Sakura is willing to bet that the _we know who you are _statement had been a bluff, but she tenses almost imperceptibly, nevertheless, and sees Takashi and Ryo do the same. Ryo's hand drifts to his throat, where she knows that their hair-thin, completely transparent and genjutsu-concealed radio wires are concealed.

The boss dismisses them, and they all slink away to their respective assignments within the headquarters, filtering out one by one through the narrow doorway. For the sake of avoiding suspicion, Takashi leaves first and Ryo lingers for a while, giving Sakura time to make her escape, which she does. It is hard to keep her body language innocent, and to maintain a steady pace down the darkened hallways when all she wants to do is collapse against one of the stone walls and allow herself the luxury of a few deep, calming breaths, and it is even harder to force her heart to _stop_ beating twice as fast as usual.

"Dragon to Princess…"

In her state of mind, the tiny voice and the small vibrations humming along her own throat are enough to startle her, and Sakura almost jumps, before instinctively putting a hand to her throat. "Yes?" she asks quietly.

"We need to get out," Ryo – Dragon – says bluntly. "I'm on my way out already, and I'll explain to the contractor why we're leaving a day early – but it's too much of a risk for us to stay here, as they're so suspicious already. Get away and meet us at the usual place as soon as you can do so without attracting any attention."

Sakura nods tersely, lowering her voice. "I'll do my best; expect me in a half hour or so?"

Ryo murmurs his assent, and Takashi's slightly shy, low voice cuts in on the other line. "Cobra to Dragon and Princess – I just got out as well, Dragon; I should be there in a couple of minutes." He hesitates for a moment. "And, Princess…take care."

Sakura can't help but smile a little as she absentmindedly walks around a dark corner. "Thank you, Cobra. I'm disconnecting."

The second she cuts the line is the second that the dim lights in the hallway flicker into darkness, and Sakura freezes on instinct. For a moment, she has an inexplicable flashback to that one time in the supply closet, with Itachi, and something small (_not_hope) flares up in her chest for a moment, but that dies as quickly as it comes. Because she's felt Itachi's arms settle around her waist, pulling her back against his chest, before, on the very first night that they had ever encountered each other and he had saved her from the Root hunters, and he doesn't feel like this.

"Now, _Princess_," an unfamiliar voice hisses into her ear. "Listen to me – come without putting up a fight, and you'll be doing yourself a favor."

In the next moment, her chakra-enhanced right fist slams into the solid concrete wall, sending a thin line of spiderweb cracks throughout the entire length of it, and Sakura wrests herself free of the other man's grip, before shoving him into the shattering wall with enough force to stun him on impact, and then, she begins to run.

-

"How many?"

In response to the quiet question, Keizo Yamamoto, the blonde intelligence director, scowls with obvious displeasure. "Fifteen," he snaps, "of our best operatives. And even when we had her cornered and got Tameyoshi to put her under his seal, she decided that even if she was going to go under…she would take the entire west wing with her. It's just dust and rubble, now."

Without further ado, he slides the unconscious pink-haired kunoichi that he had been carrying in his arms down to the cold stone floor, on her knees with her back against the wall. The interrogations specialist watches impassively as Keizo secures her to the wall by her wrists and ankles, using the typical restraints formed out of pure dark chakra. "Tameyoshi blocked her tenketsu at the hands and feet; she won't be able to utilize any of her taijutsu, even if she manages to work her way free of these," he explains tersely. "She's been drugged, too – chloroform…"

The voices are fuzzy and indistinct at best, and Sakura's eyelids feel as if they are made out of iron – she couldn't lift them if she tried, but she forces herself to focus as best as she possibly can. From her dazed, faded recollections of Keizo carrying her over here, and her knowledge of the syndicate's base, she knows that she is in one of the interrogation rooms. On her knees, chained to the wall by the wrists and ankles, and unable to do so much as move a muscle, which leaves her at the complete mercy of whoever her interrogator is going to be. Which _sucks,_ because in her month working with this organization, she has never even seen or heard anything about their interrogations specialist, let alone gathered information about any weaknesses she can possibly exploit…

She thinks that she hears one of the two – presumably the interrogator, ask something, and Keizo's shadow on the wall shakes his head. "I don't care what methods you use," he says bluntly. "Do whatever you can to get every drop of information out of her—"

"Afterwards?" the other voice inquires.

"Dispose of her," Keizo instructs coolly, before glancing between the dark-haired, red-and-black-cloaked man and the way he is trying too hard not to look at the apparently unconscious kunoichi on the floor, and he smirks a little, knowing what that's probably about. "…Or…do what you will, really. Feel free to keep her for your own purposes – after all, she is a renegade, so she will not be missed. But remember that you'll have to report everything that she says back to the boss immediately afterward."

With that, he turns and strides out of the room, shutting the solid iron door behind him – and leaving Itachi and Sakura completely alone in the small interrogations room.

-

Sakura isn't sure exactly when unconsciousness had claimed her again, although she has the suspicious feeling that it had happened right after Keizo had given the unknown interrogator license to torture all sorts of information out of her and then kill her—

She fights to open her eyes, but that is proving to be too difficult right now, so Sakura tries to straighten her neck as best as she can, first. Her limbs are sore and thoroughly inundated by that awful pins-and-needles feeling, and a tiny moan of pain escapes her throat as she pulls herself up as much as the chains will allow, so that she isn't slumped over her own knees. The stone floor is cold and rough and numbingly uncomfortable against her knees and shins, and she finally opens her eyes. Her vision is still blurry and the edges of everything are way too soft, and she stares at her knees in an attempt to give her eyes something to focus on.

At long last, she feels comfortable enough to work her gaze up a little, lifting her stiffened neck inch by inch. The room is made entirely of stone and it's dark and windowless, and _kami,_ this situation is almost unbearably bad, and she would give absolutely anything for all of it just to be some sort of hideous hallucination.

"Dragon to Princess…"

The tinny voice emanating from the still-present transparent radio wire attached to her throat startles Sakura back into a state of semi-consciousness as she looks down at herself, surprised – she had forgotten it was still on. "Sakura?" Ryo continues, and he sounds mildly panicked. "Where _are_ you? We've been looking everywhere and we're on the verge of re-infiltrating, and…look, if you can physically reply, tell us…"

The reception blanks out for a moment, and Sakura swallows over her sandpaper-dry throat, trying her best to muster the strength to speak. Nothing comes out except a somewhat raspy whimper too faint for even the radio to pick up, but then—

Before she can even finish her thought, her head suddenly snaps back, her neck arching to the ceiling and leaving the column of her throat completely exposed. Despite the rapid onset of panic, Sakura can still deduce that it hadn't been some kind of small spasm brought on by the physical strain of her position – somehow, the movement had literally been forced out of her. She struggles against whatever force is holding her in place, although to her dismay, she still finds herself unable to wrest her gaze from the point that it has locked on the ceiling.

In the next second, long, cool fingers brush lightly against the bare, vulnerable skin of her neck, and Sakura's nerves are worn thin enough that the sudden, shocking sensation would have made her scream, if not for the rawness of her throat. She isn't sure whether it's a combination of the earlier fight, being drugged, the uncomfortable restraints, the agonizing angle that her neck has been forced into, or the thoroughly frightening knowledge that right now, she is utterly unable to defend herself against whatever may come, but she is trembling almost uncontrollably as she feels that light touch ghosting along her neck and throat.

Then, there is a sudden, ripping pain along the column of her throat, and Sakura gasps aloud, arching back even further, before she realizes, horrified, that the radio wire, her last hope – is now gone, pulled free from where it had been secured to her skin. Thankfully, in that second, the invisible, icy grip pulling her head back toward the ceiling as far as it would go releases abruptly, and she falls forward, so that the tautening of the chains around her wrists is the only thing that keeps her forehead from connecting squarely with the stone floor.

Her physical discomfort forgotten in the face of her new plight, Sakura looks up as fast as she can, even though she cricks her neck in the process. "Give it back _now,_" she starts to snarl – although she suddenly stops dead, horrified into silence as she realizes just who her mysterious interrogator is.

Itachi tries to conceal his smirk at the look on her face, even as he snaps the radio wire twice, reducing it to four dejected fragments, before settling the pieces in front of Sakura. "The return of such contraband is usually prohibited, but – anything for you, _princess_."

Sakura gapes at him for a good few moments before her initial horror – both at encountering him _here, _of all places, and the fact that he had just purposely taunted her with that most infuriating nickname – finally melts and gives way to nothing less than pure, unadulterated shock. "Oh, not you, not _now,_" she moans, leaning her head against the wall limply. "Kami, _please._"

Her reaction is amusing, to say the least, and Itachi easily settles himself on his knees in front of her, so that they are almost at eye level with each other, although he is careful to keep himself out of biting range – he would not put it past her. While she is mumbling distressed entreaties to her god, he looks her over discreetly; Sakura has not changed all that much in the month that they have not seen each other, save for having grown a scant couple of inches, but otherwise, she looks relatively healthy, un-injured, and well-rested.

"You're staring," Sakura says miserably, through another futile attempt to pull herself free of the restraints, because if she were to be totally honest with herself, she really wouldn't have minded if she had run into Itachi in the middle of a crowded fish market or something, but under _these_ circumstances? Not so much. "Stop it."

Slightly irritated at himself for being caught, Itachi merely raises an eyebrow, recovering quickly. "You are still alive," he replies evenly. "I must admit that I am rather surprised."

Predictably enough, Sakura bristles visibly at the insult, before struggling against the chains as hard as she can, regardless of the strain that it is putting on her shoulders and ankles. "_What_? Of course I'm still alive! I'm not so incompetent that I can't survive without _you_ to buy me stupid Chinese food and save me from spending nights behind _waste receptacles_—"

Itachi merely looks down at her, obviously unaffected by the tirade – if anything, it does prove that she is none the worse for this experience, although he is somewhat bothered by the realization that her sudden re-entrance into his life also highlights just how almost unpleasantly _quiet_ this past month has been. "You still talk too much," he points out mildly.

Sakura glares at him vehemently. "You—"

"—You could put your tendency to good use by telling me all the information that this syndicate would find necessary to know," Itachi completes smoothly. "It would be a rather wise course of action, as a matter of fact."

Sakura takes a few moments to berate herself for actually kind of sort of _missing_ him.

"No," she retorts stubbornly, partly just for the sake of being difficult.

Itachi raises an eyebrow, obviously unimpressed by her defiance. "You and I both know that you have no real loyalty to your syndicate, Sakura."

"True," Sakura counters, without missing a beat. "But I _did_ give them my word that I wouldn't betray anything, no matter what – and I don't go back on my word."

This time, Itachi does not even attempt to conceal his smirk. "How admirable…_princess._"

At this deliberate provocation, Sakura actually lunges forward as far as she can and attempts to bite him. "Stop _calling_ me that, damn it!" she snaps, obviously flustered, because she can hardly stand it when Ryo calls her that, and Itachi is easily much worse.

"I will," he considers this for a moment, "when you tell me what I want to know."

"Go to hell," Sakura sulks, not caring that she is being decidedly impolite.

Itachi merely regards her with an inscrutable expression in his eyes. "Once was enough."

Sakura shudders deeply, and they match each other, stare for stare, for a good few moments, before she breaks the silence with a sigh. "Well, it appears that we're at an impasse," she suggests tentatively. "So, if you could take these off me, or unblock my tenketsu, it would undoubtedly be the most constructive thing to do in this situation and we could work the fine points of things out later…"

"Sakura, please." Itachi eyes the rebellious-looking kunoichi thoughtfully; despite the fact that she had just attempted to bite out his jugular a few moments earlier, and that considering their circumstances, he would be well within his rights to do so, he does not want to manipulate her into giving him the answers he needs. After all, considering Sakura's subdued and defenseless state right now, it is likely that she would break for him after a mere few moments of the Tsukiyomi, or even some of his less complex genjutsu. His time with ANBU had taught him other highly useful interrogation techniques, but…

"I have no desire to hurt you in any way," he tells her bluntly. "Do not make this any more difficult than it has to be."

Sakura blinks at the impromptu admission – of course, somebody with his experience in ANBU and the Akatsuki could have tortured or coerced the information out of her in a matter of minutes, but Itachi had just admitted that he didn't want to do that to her. It's almost sweet, in a perverse kind of way, and Sakura has to bite her lip to keep herself from smiling a little, or making a comment about it. But still—

"Fine," she replies coolly. "Let me go, then – it'll be easier for both of us."

Itachi's eyes narrow. "Sakura," he warns silkily, "if I do that, I will not be fulfilling the parameters of my assignment. The contractor will be displeased, and I will likely not be paid at all. If that is the case, then I will hardly be able to purchase us a room tonight—"

The innocent word slips into his speech without his even realizing it, although Sakura notices immediately, and if she had been able, she would have been rather tempted to clap her hands over her mouth and giggle – an experience that she hasn't indulged in for a little over nine months. "It's not about that, is it?" she asks wickedly. "_You_ just don't want to lose. Or…fail. Or whatever. And especially not to _me_, right?"

Itachi blinks, somewhat nonplussed. "I was unaware that it was a competition," he replies guardedly.

The tenketsu in her hands and feet are still all closed off, rendering her unable to channel any chakra there to create a stone-shattering punch or kick or anything of the like, but Sakura reflects with grim pleasure that she hadn't been the legendary Tsunade's apprentice for nothing. Luckily, Itachi has proved to be sufficiently distracted by her conversation, enough for Sakura to realize that she still has the ability to spark enough chakra down the exposed skin of her arms and legs enough to form tiny scalpels that can actually cut through the chakra chains that restrain her.

In an actual answer to her earlier prayers, Itachi stands and subtly stretches once, sore from kneeling for so long. Then, he picks up the broken fragments of radio wire from the floor, before rising and making his way to the small table a few feet away to deposit them there. The moment his back turns, Sakura closes her eyes for a split second in concentration, sending two razor-sharp, dangerously fine scalpels of her own chakra sparking down her arm, all the way down to her wrists. She feels them cut through the chains, although thankfully, they don't make a noise, and Sakura keeps her wrists locked submissively behind her back and to the wall, praying that Itachi won't do anything weird like _check_ or whatever—

He returns to her, remaining in his standing position (_perfect_, she thinks), and Itachi just eyes her, making it evident that he intends to simply wait things out until her resolve weakens. Sakura meets his gaze fearlessly, made confident by the tingle of the chakra scalpels inching toward her ankles, underneath the leather of her boots. In the next second, both of her ankles are soundlessly freed as well, so that she is completely unrestrained, although Sakura takes care to remain in a state of forced motionlessness, as she would if still bound.

_Play to your own strengths, _Tsunade-shishou had always told her, _and especially to your opponent's weaknesses. _

Even now, Sakura blinks at the memories of the Godaime Hokage, and not for the first time, thanks her; Sakura would have never believed that _the_ Itachi could have any weaknesses whatsoever, but some fine points of their previous encounters, and the two nights that they had spent together…well, those had led her to believe otherwise.

Sakura can only hope that her assumption is right, because if she's wrong…well. She doesn't even want to think about that.

In addition to the chakra-enhanced strength and medical techniques, Tsunade-shishou had taught her a few rather unconventional strategies – _desperate measures_, she called them – useful for coming out victorious in close combat. _Even though I designed these for use in combat with male shinobi, you must use them lightly,_ she had cautioned her student. _Preferably only with opponents who you are familiar with; the ones whose reactions to such things will be easily predictable, for whatever reason. Don't ever do this with an unknown element – _and then she had sighed. _Well, not ever, _she amended. _Only as a last resort. It could backfire in a million different ways depending on who you're fighting, and, well…you're young. Promise me, all right?_

Sakura had nodded, wide-eyed, and promised.

_Well,_ she reasons with herself, now, _desperate times do call for desperate measures._

_Here goes nothing, Sakura._

_-_

Sakura is glassy-eyed and too still and too quiet, and Itachi looks at her through veiled eyelashes – despite her previous efforts to extricate herself, she is still on her knees and secured to the wall in what is undoubtedly an uncomfortable position, and she has been like this for at least the past hour. He wonders if she has gone into shock, or something like it, and he takes a cautious step toward her, debating the possibility of allowing her free of the restraints for a few minutes, in order to allow her to stretch her limbs and regain proper circulation. "Sakura—"

She takes a moment to will her body to the earth and all of her stuff to Ino, and before Itachi can even finish saying her name, she is already on top of him. It had been a simple matter, really – only a slightly modified version of her most affectionate hugs for Sasuke, although Sakura can't help but think that if Sasuke could see her and his older brother like this, he would probably have a heart attack on the spot.

In a direct contradiction to Sakura's thoughts, right now, Sasuke is the last thing on Itachi's mind. It had happened before he could even blink, and his eyes widen in a rare moment of shocked, unguarded emotion, because Sakura's arms are wrapped around his neck, and her ankles have locked around his hips, and those first few seconds of contact are enough to send a powerful current of blinding shock through his body. Both of their torsos are pressed together in ways he doesn't really want to think about, and he is very vaguely aware of falling back against the wall, with Sakura's fingers raking through the length of his hair, and…

"Just for the record, Itachi," she breathes into his ear, "it _is_ a competition. And I intend to win."

He is vaguely conscious of a moment of pain as she tugs his hair hard enough to force his neck back, before trailing her lips down the line of his jaw and _lower. _Itachi realizes, then, that he is trembling slightly and his heart is pounding; he wants her off him, but he doesn't think he can touch her in order to wrest himself free, and—_oh, kami, is she really kissing his neck?_

Itachi thinks that he actually loses consciousness for a moment, then. Just a little, because he is the most skilled shinobi of his time, but this is nothing less than the blatant and most base type of manipulation of his greatest weakness. He shivers as Sakura's hands tangle in his hair even further, before she bites down on the pulse point on his neck almost gently, and then she does some other things with her mouth that he is too dazed to fully register, because this makes his nerves feel stretched too thin and on the verge of snapping, and it _hurts_. Immediately afterward, his vision begins to blur, reducing everything to colors and soft edges. It is then that he realizes that his breath is coming in ragged gasps, and that isn't right, because his heart rate had tripled just a few moments ago, and now, it has slowed and is beating half as much as it should, under normal circumstances. A moment later, Sakura ceases her assault on his neck and meets his confused, pained gaze, her eyes sharply and clinically analyzing him.

"What—" Itachi suddenly finds that he doesn't have the breath to continue, and he glares at the girl in his arms through bladed, dangerous eyes that are slowly bleeding crimson, silently ordering her to explain.

Sakura eases her arms from around his shoulders and untangles her legs from his waist, hopping down to the floor. With an apologetic look at him, she takes both of his hands in her own, taking advantage of the fact that he is too disoriented due to lack of oxygen to resist, before guiding both of them over to seats at the table. This feeling of utter helplessness is completely unfamiliar to him, and Itachi hates that he can do nothing more than glare at the kunoichi in front of him.

"Chakra," Sakura explains, worriedly observing the labored rise and fall of his shoulders – he reminds her of a tranquilized wolf, and she still keeps her distance, just in case, as she sits down across from him. "I…well, a while ago, I learned how to direct it to the surface of my lips, and, um, I just used it to manipulate your pulse. And…heart rate. You know."

The venom in Itachi's glare increases a notch.

"Don't worry!" Sakura hastens to reassure him. "It's only going to be so slow for about ten more minutes; your energy is going to remain in a state of severe depletion, but you won't die or anything. After those ten minutes, it'll regulate itself again and you'll be perfectly fine."

"Ten minutes?" Itachi finds the strength to hiss darkly; his heart is beating only so often as the bare minimum to sustain life, and to say that suffering through this for another ten minutes will be _uncomfortable_ is a hideous understatement.

"Enough for me to get out safely," Sakura says, in a rush. "I can't have you informing anyone, can I?"

The look in Itachi's eyes clearly informs her that there will be hell to pay a short while later, and she unconsciously backs up a pace. From her earlier studies of the building, there is an exit just at the end of this hallway, and she is only too eager to get the _hell_ out of here. "Well," Sakura laughs nervously. "Also, I'm, uh, really sorry about…" she gestures to her neck a bit vaguely.

Too flustered to expand upon her apology, she literally runs out of the room, blushing hotly and not allowing herself to do so much as take one look back. The hallway is deserted, and within a matter of minutes, Sakura makes her way out of the concealed back exit and promptly blends into the crowd of civilians milling about the city streets. She lets herself be swept along until she is quite a distance from the syndicate, before finally allowing herself to sigh with relief, leaning against the outside of a small clothing boutique and massaging her temples.

Had she _really_ just bested _the_ Itachi in honorable combat?

Well…

Not-so-honorable combat?

She isn't exactly proud that she had to resort to _that _to make her escape, but there had been no way around it. Sakura frowns for a few moments, before shrugging and turning around, getting ready to reward herself for the stressful past two hours with a brief stint of window shopping as she heads back to 'her' syndicate. Then, she can meet up with Takashi and Ryo, before they can report to the contractor and get their fees and clean out their apartments, and after a while, a thought occurs to her, and she smirks, pleased, as she walks off down the street.

This is _so_ payback for that one time in the supply closet.

-

It is a somewhat-chilly late evening by the time Itachi emerges from the syndicate building, and he draws his cloak around him a little protectively, before looking around the lit-up city streets. It is crowded with civilians who are dressed up for the night, and he weaves through the crowd, taking care to keep as far from every other person as possible. Sakura's chakra signature is relatively distant from here, but it stands out clearly in the sea of civilians around them.

In the center of the city, there is a small red bridge over a large, koi-filled manmade lake, lit with paper lanterns that float around on artificial lily pads. Normally, the bridge is filled with various civilian couples enjoying the view, but tonight, it is deserted, save for a certain, familiar pink-haired kunoichi who leans against the railing, staring into the depths of the dark water.

It is beautiful here, and Sakura hasn't seen a lot of _beautiful_ for the longest time. She smiles a little as she sees the golden-and-white scaly patterns of the koi swim around just underneath the surface; it looks like they're swimming right through her reflection. She lingers there, just enjoying the serene setting – she can still hear the sounds and see the lights of the city, but they feel far enough removed to just be a mild hum in the distance.

Once, Sakura blinks, and when she opens her eyes, her reflection isn't alone. Itachi's crimson eyes look somewhat eerie in the black water, specked gold with reflected light, and as she watches, the red color of his bloodline limit fades into that dark charcoal-gray. "I got a room with some of my last month's pay," she says quietly, keeping her eyes trained on a floating paper lantern. "If you still want to…"

Itachi blinks momentarily, but then he remembers her words of a month ago – _if we ever meet again_ – and he inclines his head a fraction of an inch in acknowledgement of the quiet, subtle understanding that they have just come to. "Of course."

Sakura smiles into her reflection, and the two of them lapse into a comfortable silence, before Itachi clears his throat lightly, as the two of them begin to make their way down the bridge and toward the city. "How did you—" he begins to ask, although he cannot bring himself to finish the question, and settles with merely gesturing at his throat stiffly.

It takes her a moment to understand his meaning, and Sakura brushes a lock of hair behind her ear self-consciously. "I used to, um, do that to Sasuke. Sometimes. Until I realized that he didn't like being touched or hugged at all, kind of like you…"

Despite his best efforts at impassivity, Itachi looks very mildly horrified at the thought of his younger brother being assaulted by Sakura in such a way. Because even though his heart is beating properly again, the residuals of his earlier panic attack linger, and he still feels a little…victimized and vulnerable, and in no way has he ever wished that sort of torture upon Sasuke.

Then, the thought suddenly strikes him that if Sasuke had ever found himself in that sort of position with Sakura, it wouldn't be because she desired to escape from him, and…well, Itachi doesn't even want to think about _that._

Accurately reading Itachi's expression and subsequently realizing how her words could be misinterpreted, Sakura chokes, before attempting to frantically backtrack. "I – well, by _that_, I meant the general act of hugging – not the jumping on and biting and kissing and literal heart-stopping and…stuff. Right." She nods toward a tempura bar, still blushing. "Dinner?"

"Yes," Itachi acquiesces faintly.

The tempura bar has rather nice outdoor tables for two, overlooking the distant spectacle of the bridge and the lit-up lake, and they both settle there, over plates of deep-fried vegetables. Sakura talks at him about inconsequential things, happy to even have somebody to talk to, as they often had before, and Itachi reacquaints himself with the art of conversation – well, _his_ idea of conversation, because nevertheless, he hasn't really had any in the past month.

"So," Sakura says airily, as she delicately sips her lemonade. "…Should we come up with, well, _rules_, or something?"

Itachi raises an eyebrow, somewhat intrigued at the prospect. "Rules?"

"Things that either of us shouldn't do to the other if we have any interest in coexisting peacefully," Sakura says, by way of explanation.

Itachi sets his glass on the table, looking up at the starry night sky as he considers this for a few moments. At long last, he glances over at his unlikely partner evenly. "There is just one thing."

Sakura blinks, a little surprised; honestly, she had expected a litany of odd requests for her not to be too happy, or to assign herself a quota of words to be spoken per day and never exceed that number – it seems to be Itachi's personal philosophy, after all – and she nods, curious. "Yes?"

"Do not intentionally manipulate my – weakness – like that, ever again," Itachi replies simply. "Even though I do not intend to ever give you cause to do so."

Even though she knows that it's a serious matter, to him, Sakura can't help but smirk. "Only on one condition."

"And that would be?" Itachi asks levelly.

All of a sudden, Sakura looks very serious. "Don't call me your _princess_ ever again. I know that you're going to find it really hard to restrain yourself, but I found that very disturbing."

Despite himself, Itachi makes a small sound of amusement in the back of his throat. "…I do not think that we will have any problems regarding that particular issue, Sakura."

For the first time in months, Sakura feels her spirits lift fractionally, as she smiles at him. "Well, in that case, I think we're going to be just fine."

* * *

_to be continued_

* * *

:D

I know I might get some questions about why Sakura didn't just decide to go with Itachi at first – she thought that was a tempting prospect, but she second-guessed and overanalyzed the issue until she gave herself cold feet. That's why she implied that she would stay with him if they met again, though, but considering their history, Sakura didn't think that it would take a little over a month for them to do so. And that month of solitude, after she had kind of become used to Itachi's presence, made her realize that she had made a big mistake the first time around. I hope that clears things up a little.

Oh, and one last thing – the _princess_ exchanges between Itachi and Sakura were there for you, satoshii. :)

As always, comments would be very much appreciated.


	7. One Step Closer

_As always, thank you so much to everybody who was wonderful enough to review. :)_

_-_

_Chapter Seven: One Step Closer_

_-_

The next afternoon finds Sakura sitting at a circular table at a small café in the city of her original employment, sharing a large platter of sushi and drinking oversized chocolate milkshakes with Ryo and Takashi. It is something that she used to do often with Naruto and Sai – but always with ramen, of course – and she feels inordinately glad that her temporary teammates had decided to meet for a last lunch together, in order to mark the official culmination of their month-long mission.

"So, Princess," Ryo mumbles around a mouthful of sashimi, ignoring the disgusted looks that both of his dining companions are giving him. "Where are you headed, after this?"

Sakura makes a face at him, before sipping her milkshake, and she laughs when Takashi flings his own napkin at Ryo's face in an attempt to shield both of them from the unholy spectacle. "I suppose I'm just going to stay in the Fire Country for as long as I safely can, and…" she shrugs, stirring the straw in her glass. "After that, I'm not sure."

Ryo and Takashi exchange rather conspiratory looks, and Sakura eyes them curiously, letting her gaze land on the shy brunette first. Takashi blushes faintly, drawing his black flak vest closer around the matching turtleneck that he wears. "I – well, _we_, were wondering if you would ever possibly consider the possibility of…"

Ryo rolls his eyes exaggeratedly at his friend's shyness, before elbowing him in the ribs. "We were wondering if you'd like to stay with us, Sakura," he finishes, with his usual straightforwardness. "Don't get me wrong; I still think you're way too moody for somebody with that strong of a punch, but we all work well together, and, well…it would be fun."

Sakura blinks, the words taking a moment to register, and then she fidgets a little awkwardly, unsure of what exactly to say, because she likes them, she really does, but there's no easy way to tell them –

"I'm sorry," she blurts, tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear. "I kind of met up with this, um, _person_ who I was acquainted with on a prior occasion, and we decided to stay together this time…"

Sakura trails off upon noticing the alarmingly wide-eyed look on Ryo's face as he leans closer. "Ooh, who?" he asks excitedly, and Takashi even ceases looking crestfallen in order to join in the curiosity.

Sakura just stares blankly at Ryo, thinking _worsethanNaruto, worsethanNaruto,_ and what the _hell_; she doesn't want to lie to them, but it's not like she's going to tell Ryo and Takashi that she's chosen the dubious company of a supposedly psychopathic and lethally dangerous Akatsuki member who, oh, also should be _dead, _over them_ – _two relatively well-rounded and average guys about her age.

"Well," the pink-haired kunoichi stammers uncertainly, "um, it's kind of a long story."

Meanwhile, Ryo drastically misinterprets the pained look on her face and the shy tone, and he flings the much-abused napkin back at her. "Aww, Princess has a boyfriend!" he crows triumphantly. "How freakin' _cute_!"

Upon taking in the aghast and openmouthed expression on Sakura's face, Takashi coughs to stifle a laugh, despite the fact that this new information may have kind of just fractured his heart a little. "What?" Sakura chokes, finally; to her dismay, she finds herself blushing _really_ hard at the mere thought of her and Itachi being…involved. Romantically. "No, it's so not like that, the two of us are just friends—"

And then she winces, because at least in her book, that's a bit of a stretch.

"Just friends?" Takashi echoes, before making a rather sour pair of air quotations around the words.

Meanwhile, Ryo winks at her mischievously. "Sure, Princess. You keep telling yourself that."

Sakura sinks down in her chair and mutters something incoherent as she practically _feels _her face turning five different shades of red. "You guys are so going to pay for this."

"Not necessarily," Takashi points out, ever the practical one. "Since I guess that we have to go our separate ways after this, it's going to be hard for you to exact your undoubtedly fearsome and scary revenge on us…"

"No, no, you've got it all wrong," Sakura smirks, before elbowing both of them in the ribs and nodding toward the empty platter of sushi and the drained milkshake glasses. "I meant that you guys are so going to _pay_ for this."

As if summoned by the words alone, a black-and-white suited waiter emerges from the back of the café and nods toward the three rather rambunctious teenagers disdainfully. "Here's the bill."

Without further ado, he drops it in front of Ryo and saunters away, and much to Sakura's satisfaction, both Ryo and Takashi turn a pasty shade of green as they take it all in. Ryo looks rather nauseous as he sets the receipt down and pulls out his bag, before rummaging into it for his wallet, while making a face at the innocently smiling Sakura. "Princess, I don't know _who_ your guy is," he says expansively, dumping a large pile of coins on the table. "But I really hope that he's done something – or, better yet, _several _horrible things – to deserve you."

Despite the fact that she is perpetuating the rather large misconception that her friends are suffering under, Sakura can't help but choke back a spontaneous moment of laughter. "Oh, you two have _no_ idea."

-

After the total bill has been paid and Takashi has punched Ryo in the arm a good three times to make him stop complaining – _"don't act like we're not going to collect enough fees to triple that sum by the end of tonight, you…drama queen!"_ – the three of them finally stroll out of the café, into the crowded street.

They are still laughing and talking when Sakura realizes with a sudden pang that she actually _will_ miss them – everything about them, even their occasional obnoxiousness, their constant bickering, and all of their strange little quirks. The small similarities aside, they aren't anything like her Naruto and Sai, but in the past month, the two Grass missing-nin have also managed to carve out their own special niches within her heart.

As if her thoughts are written plainly on her face, Takashi tilts his head slightly as he regards her wistful expression. "Cheer up, Sakura," he offers, with a small smile. "Who knows – maybe we'll see each other again someday."

Of course, Ryo needs no further encouragement to roughly pull both of them into a tight group hug. "This is your last chance to ditch the boyfriend and come with us, Princess," he finishes, sounding utterly serious. "Although I guess we'll have to forgive you if you don't."

Sakura laughs a little, although the sound is muffled from where her face is pressed into Takashi's shoulder. She will be lying if she tells herself that it isn't a tempting offer, one that she would have undoubtedly jumped at a few days ago. Even though her situation is different now, she can't deny that it would be nice; under different circumstances, the three of them would have been amazing. But still, Sakura gives them a final, rib-crushing – although rather affectionate – squeeze, before letting go, and making them promise to take care of themselves and not do anything stupid.

Ryo and Takashi, despite their considerable personal differences, give her remarkably identical wicked grins as they vanish in swirls of grass, and Sakura can't help but sigh as she looks at the space that they had just occupied, before turning around and beginning to make her way back down the street. Logically, she knows that, due to the sheer expanse of the countries that they are traveling, the chance that they will ever encounter each other again is slim, but she can't help but hope.

_Yeah, _Inner Sakura points out in agreement,_ after all, just look at what happened with—_

Sakura directs an inward glare at her subconscious mind, cutting the thought off abruptly. There is absolutely no need to bring _him_ up, because obviously…well, their situation is really just quite abnormal.

Itachi's chakra is concealed, as usual, but she has always been rather sensitive and talented at tracking chakra signatures – besides, over the past month and few weeks, Sakura has acquired a strange sort of _feel_ for Itachi's, in particular. She finds this realization somewhat unsettling, but it guides her through the streets effortlessly, and she can't complain about that. After last night, the two of them had mutually agreed to come here before finding an official assignment in the next city to the north – she had to meet Ryo and Takashi for lunch, and Itachi had rather ambiguously claimed that he had some very important supplies to purchase.

The pink-haired kunoichi weaves through the crowd, deftly managing to avoid running headlong into anyone. After about ten minutes of absentmindedly following her lead, Sakura looks around, momentarily confused, as she notices that she has found herself in a section of the city that seems to be devoted solely to…organic food?

_What the hell? _

Now thoroughly perplexed, as she had never figured Itachi, of all people, to be a health freak, Sakura wanders into the nearest dimly-lit store, which smells strongly of herbs and tea. Aside from a few elderly ladies chattering about the merits of various types of dried fruit and a bored-looking cashier, the store is empty, and she finds him in the fifth aisle to the left, staring impassively at a row of boxes upon boxes of all kinds of exotic flavors of tea. Itachi doesn't move a muscle to acknowledge her presence at the front of the aisle, save for the barest flickering of his gray eyes to hers. "Chai or blueberry?" he inquires tonelessly.

Sakura stares blankly. She thinks her jaw might even have dropped, too, but she can't be too sure. "Uh…?" she contributes weakly, while wondering whether she is hallucinating this. Not only is this the first time that he has actually asked her opinion about something, but – _tea, _of all things? _Really_?

Itachi notices the utterly perplexed expression on her face, and seems to take pity on her. "Do you have any preferences?"

"…No," Sakura shakes her head a little, still somewhat thrown by the sheer surreality of it. "Except that I don't like green tea at all."

With that, Itachi takes a small step forward and gathers one box of each flavor of tea – except for green, interestingly enough – into the shopping basket that he has in one arm. When he finally turns away from the wall of tea, Sakura is surprised to see a miniscule glint of amusement flit across his features. "Take a picture," he suggests evenly, before brushing against her a little, on his way to the cashier. "There is a good chance that it will last longer."

Surprisingly enough, she brushes the light almost-teasing aside, and within a few minutes, they are outside again, with Itachi rather contentedly cradling his bags of newly-purchased tea, and Sakura still fighting the urge to stare at this rare glimpse of actual human behavior from the normally icy Akatsuki member.

"_Those_ were your highly important supplies?" Sakura can't help but blurt, unable to keep it in any longer.

"Yes. I enjoy tea," Itachi responds mildly, feeling her incredulous gaze burning a hole into his shoulder.

"…Right," Sakura manages tentatively.

Itachi can't help but smirk, knowing the reason for her sudden discomfort. "Contrary to popular belief, Sakura, I _am_ capable of such emotions."

Sakura blinks, a little startled by the statement, before she inclines her head in thought. They have made their way to a small side road out of the city, leading to the next one north; it is deserted, and the two of them are able to easily keep pace with one another. "I know," she replies suddenly. "Except that…I don't."

Itachi spares a moment to give her a nonplussed glance.

Realizing how utterly oxymoronic (and downright moronic, too) that sounds, Sakura winces, before trying to explain herself. "I mean, I just realized that I don't know _anything_ about you, at all, even though we're together – well, not _together_, but that's besides the point…"

This time, Itachi looks at her as if she has all the intelligence of a deceased, fungus-ridden goldfish – because she obviously knows at least one thing about him – and Sakura winces again, offhandedly wondering if there had been something in that sushi that had enhanced her propensity to put her foot in her mouth. "Well, I don't know anything about you except for what happened with… that…one…incident," she amends, still half-flinching, and unable to even get herself to think about the mission that he had been forced to perform on October twelfth, five years ago. "And that's hardly something to…"

Sakura trails off, still looking utterly miserable, and Itachi sighs minutely; despite her general incoherence and failure to adequately get her point across, he does rather appreciate her sensitivity. "What would you like to know?" he asks evenly.

Somewhat shocked that he would even consider her question, Sakura takes a moment to think about it. "…You know, other things that you like," she suggests cautiously. "Foods, or whatever. Or what you like to do in your spare time, if you've ever had any pets, what your favorite color is, or which season you enjoy most – just random stuff like that, which would all help me get to know you better."

Itachi raises an eyebrow, taking it all in with only the mildest expression of skepticism marring his usually emotionless features. "Would attaining this trivial information put you somewhat at ease?"

"It's not trivial!" Sakura defends, at once – both she and Ino had agreed that the abovementioned facts are an abbreviated list of Very Important things to ascertain about any guy while really getting to know them, and she tells him so in no uncertain terms.

Itachi just looks back at her in the way he usually does, as if she is some sort of complicated puzzle that he would like to solve. "…I am not fond of talking about myself," he replies, after a long while.

Sakura gives him a deadpan stare, knowing very well that he is not fond of _talking_, period. "I'm not asking you to give me your autobiography, or anything. Considering our circumstances, I would just like to know a little bit more about you besides the fact that you seem to really like tea."

He refuses again and she persists, and this goes on for about half an hour until Sakura gets the idea to bat her eyelashes at him in her most persuasive – but _not_ flirtatious, because it's not like this particular expression had ever displayed phenomenal success in getting Kiba to buy her ice cream that one time, or anything – manner. "I'll tell you everything that you want to know about me," she promises, hoping that this won't come back to bite her later.

Much to her displeasure, Itachi merely smirks for a fleeting moment, looking rather unaffected by her technique. "That would imply that I have an interest in such things."

It takes a moment for this to sink in, but when it does, Sakura blushes out of sheer indignation, and her next light footfall inadvertently makes a small crater in the ground, chakra sparking visibly around the left sole of her boots. "What—"

"Your offer to _tell_ me about yourself is an insult," Itachi interrupts smoothly, as if she had never spoken. "You are an open book in every sense of the phrase, Sakura – I am quite sure that I can learn everything about you simply by casual observation."

Sakura stares back at him; if any of the _other_ guys she knows had made this comment, she would loudly accuse whoever it was of being a stalkerish pervert who is just looking for an excuse to stare at her, but…somehow, she doesn't think that this general rule applies to Itachi. "You're lying," she says flatly. "I'm not that easy to read." And then she frowns. "Are you implying that I couldn't learn everything about _you_ by casual observation?"

Detachedly, Itachi files away yet another small note in the depths of his mind that his new partner also seems to have an inordinately competitive streak, perhaps because of some sort of deep-seated fear, or memory, of past inferiority. He decides to humor her, though, because perhaps this is proof that he has been on his own for far too long, but he finds the ridiculous transparency of Sakura's emotions to be almost entertaining. "Yes," he agrees.

Sakura glowers at him darkly. "You—" Without bothering to finish the sentence, she turns away sharply, crossing her arms over her chest. "I could probably learn everything about _you_ after a week's worth of casual observation," she taunts. "Or, more than you could learn about me, at least."

_Subject does not respond well to perceived slights to her pride, although she seems to have enough self-preservation sense to prefer verbal or intellectual forms of retribution, _Itachi observes clinically. "Don't flatter yourself," he comments, at last, before sweeping forward, his footsteps echoing softly on the empty, dusty path.

Sakura gapes at his back, obviously injured, and fighting the considerable temptation to jump on him again and make him beg for mercy, this time. _Flatter yourself, my ass,_ she thinks sourly, continuing on, and missing Ryo and Takashi more and more with each step forward.

-

Within the space of the next two weeks, these are the things that Sakura manages to learn about Itachi.

He likes sweet foods, inexplicably enough. They stop at a dango stand once, before an assignment, and she catches a glimpse of one of his very rare unguarded moments – the way he closes his eyes after the first bite, his long, sooty eyelashes sweeping the sensitive skin underneath his eyes, as if he is trying to savor that first dizzying rush of flavor.

…Well, that, along with the fact that he has a hell of a poker face.

Itachi doesn't express any emotion. Ever. Sometimes, when she inadvertently says something that he seems to find amusing, for whatever reason, he'll make a tiny, indistinct (but not unpleasant by any means) sound in the back of his throat, but that's it. He smirks a little, on occasion – but not as much as Sasuke, part of her notices – although aside from that, the extent of his physical expressions are restricted to the occasional raising of one eyebrow, and even that is limited to a fraction of an inch, at most.

Also, he isn't great company; not by any stretch of the imagination. Sakura has always been rather outgoing and talkative, but Itachi, on the other hand, is quiet by nature. He speaks of his own accord only when he seems to find it extremely necessary, which is usually when they're forming a plan to execute whatever mission that they happen to be doing at the time. Otherwise, Itachi stoically puts up with whatever it is that Sakura happens to be offering her latest running commentary on in utter silence, offering a few dry remarks only when a particular comment catches his fancy.

She is fairly sure that, besides tea and dango, Itachi doesn't even _like_ anything, either. He seems to tolerate everything with an air of detached aloofness, and Sakura is quite certain that she rests firmly under the blanket of _Things To Be Endured,_ but surprisingly enough, this does not bother her. _After all_, Sakura thinks in a moment of wry humor, _if I play my cards right, within the next couple of years, I may even graduate to Things That Are Liked – ranking me right up there with the tea. What more could I ever want, right?_

Despite her constant stream of sardonic observations regarding the elder Uchiha, Sakura has to admit that things between them aren't unpleasant in the least – far from it, as a matter of fact. She seriously doubts that they will ever have a heart-to-heart chat while curled up in bed as they paint each other's nails in Itachi's signature shade of Akatsuki Violet, but…even though he isn't remotely close to her ideal companion, he is unfailingly polite and quite considerate of her needs, which is ultimately what is most important.

Through her little observation exercise, Sakura had been hoping to humanize Itachi, by somehow detecting some characteristics or behaviors that could make him more relatable and tangible in any way, but she is fairly sure that she has failed miserably in her mission. It's not like she had _expected_ him to let her in, just because of their sheer physical proximity, but…still. They are partners who work well together and coexist peacefully, and that's what matters most, so it shouldn't even matter that she might have wanted a little bit more. Nothing like what Ryo and Takashi had suggested, but being with Itachi only takes the edge off her loneliness; not eliminating it completely as she thought it would.

Frustratingly enough, she thinks about this at night more often than not, while curled around one of the extra pillows in that overwhelmingly drowsy, not-quite-lucid state between consciousness and sleep. One night in particular, Sakura sleepily draws the blankets around herself and turns on her side, before freezing abruptly; even while half-awake, she can tell that she has crossed the invisible but _very_ definite line that separates her side of the bed from Itachi's – which is a major faux pas. Bracing herself to face his irritated glare, Sakura half-sits up, ready to apologize—

Only to find herself staring at an empty side of the bed.

Now outright bemused, Sakura sits up fully, rubbing blearily at her eyes. It takes a moment for them to re-focus, but when they do, she finally catches sight of Itachi, sitting on the window seat and staring out into the dark night, his eyes shadowed with thought, and visibly troubled.

He is too immersed in his thoughts to immediately notice the slight, subtle movements in the darkened room, but in the next moment, Itachi is somewhat startled to find that he isn't alone any longer. It is a testament to her stealth that Sakura had managed to take him unawares, and for one fleeting moment, she can easily read the surprise written on his face. Despite her tiredness, she gives him a small smile of triumph, settling into a cross-legged position slightly in front of him. Her hair has grown out a little past her shoulders by now, and it stands on end, impossibly tangled, and she is wearing her usual ramen-scented pajamas. The slight shadows under her eyes from lack of sleep are thrown into relief by their sudden exposure to the stark silver moonlight, which catches and reflects into her eyes, and Itachi finds himself giving her a long, measuring glance, absorbing every minute detail of her sleep-tousled appearance. "What are you doing, Sakura?"

Sakura shrugs with one shoulder, looking out the window. "You looked so…preoccupied," she replies, a little awkwardly. "Do you want to – talk, or something?"

Itachi gives her a mildly incredulous look. "Why would I do that?" he asks quietly.

"It might help," she says simply.

All he does is stare back at her with that same inscrutable expression in his eyes, before turning away from the window. A cloud passes from over the moon, throwing one side of his face into sharp relief, and Sakura can't help but take it in; maybe it's just her sleep-deprived state, but part of her detachedly notes that he is almost achingly attractive. "It is nothing," Itachi murmurs at last. "…Nothing that you would understand, in any case."

The words aren't meant to be hurtful; knowing the lives he has lived, it is nothing more than a statement of fact, and Sakura takes it as such. Even then, she feels a fleeting and inexplicable prick of something – pain or rejection or something else that she wouldn't be feeling if not for her half-conscious and definitely unguarded psyche – inside her, and she turns away just the same, so that a few tangled locks of hair fall forward to obscure her face. "Well," she replies, keeping her tone even. "You should get some sleep, anyway."

Without waiting for a reply, Sakura removes herself from the ledge and silently pads across the room, before slipping under the covers and pulling them over her head. She is vaguely conscious of Itachi joining her, a little while later, but she says nothing, instead pressing her cheek to the cool fabric of the pillowcase and closing her eyes wearily. Sleep should be her priority now – _not_ thinking stupid thoughts about everything she wishes would be.

-

_The Next Day_

-

Last night, if Itachi had known that he would find himself preparing to crash a pre-wedding party during the next evening, he would have definitely opted to spend more time resting and less time engaging in deep, dark introspection. As a matter of fact, this entire business is just such a ridiculous waste of time that he would be tempted to call the whole thing off if not for the astronomical fees—

He hadn't realized he had spoken aloud, murmuring the words under his breath, until Sakura turns around and smirks at him a little as she throws her bag onto the large bed in the center of the luxuriously furnished suite that has been granted to them by the contractor. "It's not going to be that bad," she says, a little superciliously, in order to mask her surprise at the fact that Itachi had actually just offered his own personal opinion on something. "It's just a _wedding_, after all. It could be much worse."

"The premise is patently ridiculous," he counters swiftly, while visually assessing the suite to make sure that it is safe. "If the parents have an issue with the fact that their daughter's intended husband is the head of a renowned criminal empire, that is a _personal_ issue that they should have dealt with prior to this. It is hardly something that requires contracting the services of two missing-nin to eliminate the groom during the month before the wedding."

"It's not ridiculous at all – actually, it's perfectly understandable," Sakura replies, flinging the closet door open and pulling out the dress that had been provided for her to wear. Holding it up to her chest critically, she turns back to him with a slightly wavering smile. "My dad always said he would do the same thing, if he thought that I was in danger of marrying somebody…undeserving." She pauses, a wistful expression flickering through her gaze. "She's lucky," Sakura comments softly, before hugging the dress close and drifting to the bathroom door, before shutting it after her.

Itachi looks at the closed door for a few moments; he notices the usage of past tense, of course, and he just turns away, waiting for her in silence.

-

When Sakura finally re-emerges, she is perfectly composed and dry-eyed once again, and wearing the sleek, ruby-red floor-length gown that had been left for her. It is actually a few inches too long for her, even though it fits perfectly everywhere else; the dress clings to her skin in a way that she has become unaccustomed to, over the past several months. It's elegant enough to fit the role that she and Itachi will play – distant cousins to the family, but not distant enough to _not_ be invited to the engagement party.

Itachi is dressed in a way that carefully complements her; black pants, a red dress shirt in the exact same shade as her gown, and a black silk tie. He is tugging uncomfortably on the latter implement of clothing when Sakura makes her entrance, trying hard not to trip on the hem of her dress. She keeps her eyes determinedly trained on the dresser in the corner of the room as she does so, so that she can't possibly look at him looking at her, even though the temptation is considerable. As it is, she thinks that she hears him clear his throat once, almost uneasily, although when Itachi finally speaks, his tone is as clipped and professional as always. "You look the part," he says simply, and when Sakura dares looking back at him, she finds that his gaze holds nothing but cool evaluation. "However, you will need to perform a henge before we leave – there will be a drain on your chakra, but your hair and eyes stand out far too much as they are."

Sakura knows that it's necessary for them to look as much like actual members of the family as possible, but she scowls nevertheless, glancing down at the floor. "I…can't," she mutters unhappily.

Itachi raises an eyebrow impassively. "Sakura, this is no time for your—"

"No!" Sakura snaps, before he can finish the sentence. "I mean that I literally _can't_!"

This time, Itachi frowns. "…Are you saying that you cannot successfully complete a simple transformation technique?"

Deciding that she _really_ doesn't like the tone of his voice, Sakura just glares at him poisonously, hating the fact that she can shatter a solid stone wall into rubble with the tips of her fingers and stop hearts with a few well-chosen hand signs, and yet, over the years, she's forgotten how to do a simple henge that even Naruto had been able to master in his genin days. "Yeah," she bites out sharply. "That's _exactly_ what I'm saying. Do you have a problem with that, _Itachi_?"

Itachi just looks back at her, obviously unimpressed by her deceptively sweet question, although he decides that due to their impeding mission, he will refrain from baiting Sakura for her obvious lack of such a necessary skill. "Yes, but thankfully, it is easily remediable," he answers smoothly, before sweeping past her and toward the open bathroom door, and turning and looking at the surprised kunoichi expectantly. "Well?"

When she understands his meaning, Sakura blushes on principle. It's not often that one shinobi can project a technique onto another, and she's only had it happen to her once. But it's not like she has any option but to go along with it, and she follows him a little hesitantly, stepping into the expansive, studio-lit bathroom. Itachi closes the door behind them automatically, while Sakura leans against the cool marble counter a little self-consciously, her back to the mirror as she feels the counter press into her back. When Itachi turns back to her, she wonders if he is feeling as awkward about this as she is.

"…So," Sakura begins uncomfortably, bracing her hands against the counter.

Itachi does not dignify this ambiguous statement with a reply, instead looking between her and then the counter in a rather self-explanatory fashion. Realizing that it will be easier for him if she is at eye level, as she will be when seated on the counter, Sakura tries her best to hop up onto it – it is something that she would have been able to do without a problem while dressed in her normal clothes, but the way the dress fits against her hips makes it considerably more difficult.

After a few moments of watching her subtle struggles, Itachi internally glowers with displeasure, and before Sakura even fully realizes what has happened, he has easily lifted her by the waist onto the counter, before releasing her quickly, as if the less than a second's worth of physical contact had burned him. Sakura blinks, surprised that he had actually touched her of his own volition – but then, he had probably become impatient. Being so close, eye-to-eye, with him is a little strange; enough for her nerves to be set on edge by the proximity. Itachi doesn't even blink as he regards her thoughtfully, tilting his head a little to the side, and Sakura swallows over her dry throat in the face of this intense scrutiny, because she can't decide whether being the recipient of his undivided attention is flattering or unsettling.

After a few moments, Itachi reaches forward, and she flinches away instinctively, at the very thought of his hands against her unprotected scalp. He notices the defensive movement and narrows his eyes, stilling his hand. "Sakura, please," he says tersely.

"Sorry," she mumbles, a little abashed and knowing that he probably dislikes this just as much as she does, but she still closes her eyes, bracing herself for what is to come.

Itachi sees her pink eyelashes flutter downwards, and he forces himself to shelve his reservations, tentatively reaching out and brushing his long fingers through the length of her hair. It is surprisingly soft and smooth against his palm, and he almost pulls back on principle, even as Sakura makes a tiny sound in the back of her throat, and it takes a conscious effort to stop herself from leaning into his touch – surprisingly, it is the most gentle contact that she has received in such a long time. His hand comes to rest against her scalp on the side of her head, holding it still, and Sakura cracks an eye open warily, watching him watch her as if she presents an interesting dilemma.

The sensation of his chakra against her skin and twining into the surface of her hair is sudden and most definitely unpleasant – it's too cold and it even _feels_ dark, and Sakura's first instinct is to twist away from him in order to separate herself from it. "Stay," Itachi orders sharply, stepping closer to her, so that the tenuous link of their contact isn't severed.

"I'm not a dog," Sakura replies through gritted teeth, as her fingers clench around the rim of the counter as she takes a few deep breaths and tries to get used to the feeling. Distantly, she becomes aware that having such a violent reaction to his chakra – an extension of himself, to some degree – could be considered insulting, and she forces her heart rate to calm slightly. "…Sorry," she apologizes grudgingly.

Itachi makes a soft, noncommittal sound as he continues to watch her, directing his chakra carefully over each strand of her hair. "I am quite sure that I would dislike the feel of your chakra, as well; there is no need to apologize."

Sakura scowls at him as vehemently as she can, considering the fact that he is, in effect, stroking her hair in a way that could almost be labeled as comforting. "What would you think my chakra would feel like? Because all my previous patients have found it extraordinarily soothing, not…dislikeable."

The question actually throws Itachi somewhat; he releases her quickly, and Sakura can feel the completion of the henge, with his chakra weaving around hers in order to sustain the illusion. She turns to the mirror quickly, only to become thoroughly startled upon finding herself face-to-face with a redheaded girl – herself – who looks like she could be Gaara of the Sand's twin sister. Before she has enough time to let the new look sink in, Sakura finds herself spun back around by an extraordinarily light grasp on her wrist, and Itachi narrows his eyes at her. "Too pale," he comments, before winding his fingers through her hair again.

Sakura just blinks, mildly astounded by the impromptu commentary. Itachi winds his fingers through her hair again, deftly changes the color into a strawberry-blonde, and then by the time Sakura turns to face the mirror, she is whirled back around with such intensity that she almost gets whiplash. "It makes your eyes look strange," Itachi mutters.

Now feeling mildly dizzy, Sakura allows herself to think about what the hell is going on – is she _really_ sitting on a bathroom counter playing fashion hair color extravaganza with Itachi_, _of all people? And he keeps looking at her as if she is some kind of painting that he can't perfect, and it's…_weird._

Itachi quickly nixes three other hair colors in rapid succession – deep auburn (which garners nothing more than a disgusted look), light brown ("_too plain"_), and orange-red (_"awful"_) – in about as many minutes, leaving Sakura with what she is sure is a severe case of whiplash. "It doesn't have to be perfect!" she protests, twisting around and glaring at him. "I just need a different hair color! _Any_ different hair color!"

After another minute of his trying to cast another color onto her hair, Itachi actually steps back, looking mildly revolted. Panicked and afraid he had screwed up her face instead of her hair or something, Sakura glances back quickly –

She's blonde. Platinum blonde. Beautiful Ino-blonde, and Sakura actually smiles at her reflection. "See, this is pretty—"

Her sentence quickly becomes derailed into a yelp as Itachi tugs her around sharply enough that she actually almost falls into his arms. "Hideous," he pronounces distastefully.

Sakura flushes angrily, before forgetting her usual wariness of Itachi, and futilely attempting to kick him in the leg. "I didn't agree to be with you just so that you could call me ugly all day!" she hisses vehemently, having several painful Sai-flashbacks.

This accusation actually garners an almost-confused look in Itachi's eyes as he twines his fingers through her hair again. "Sakura, I am most certainly not calling you…ugly."

"Oh, really?" Sakura glares, reluctantly submitting to the light hold.

Surprisingly enough, Itachi smirks a little. "I am merely expressing the opinion that no other hair color looks as – pleasing – on you as that outrageous genetic anomaly that you suffer with under normal circumstances."

Sakura just stares back at him, unsure of whether Itachi had just actually _complimented_ or _insulted_ her – on one hand, he had told her that her natural hair color looked 'pleasing,' on her, and…on the other, he had also called it an 'outrageous genetic anomaly' that was to be 'suffered with.'

She is too busy thinking rather unpleasant thoughts about stupid S-class missing-nin and their stupid perfectionist tendencies to realize when Itachi finishes, until he pulls his hand away. Not bothering to look back at the mirror, Sakura just watches him to see the reaction that her new hair color garners. Shockingly enough, there is no disgust or horror or even dissatisfaction on his face; Itachi merely inclines his head a fraction of an inch, regarding her contemplatively. "It is acceptable," he decides.

Now sufficiently intrigued, Sakura glances into the mirror – her new hair is a deep, rich shade of chocolate-brown. She still doesn't look _right_ without her natural hair color, but this is definitely an improvement over the others. "I like it," she declares, running her fingers through it in satisfied fascination.

"Good," Itachi replies dryly, and he steels himself, before somewhat awkwardly pressing one of his hands to her cheek. Sakura freezes in place almost amusingly, turning as rigid as a statue, even as she feels him drag the pad of his thumb against the soft skin of her right eye. Some part of her notices that his eyes are liquid crimson and swirling ink-black as they lock with hers, now, and she tries to pull away on instinct – only to find that she can't. He is holding her still with some sort of immobilizing technique, and all of a sudden, Sakura's nerves feel rubbed raw with tension and she shivers, futilely attempting to close her eyes.

The pulse of chakra is sharp and sudden, and there is an intense, stinging sensation that makes her eyes fill up and spill over with blinding tears. Itachi releases her abruptly, eyeing his handiwork as he watches her gasp a little and rub the tears away from her eyes with the back of her hand. "What the _hell_?" she chokes, when she is able, and hating the fact that she is actually crying for no reason in front of him.

"I apologize," Itachi says tonelessly, and although he knows that her tears are only caused by the brief shock of retinal discomfort, he still feels rather disquieted by them. "I thought you would struggle, and it would have been more painful that way."

Sakura nods, closing her eyes until the last vestiges of stinging disappear, and when they do, she slides off the marble counter, turning and fully facing herself in the mirror for the first time. Her reflection is nearly unrecognizable, now – her facial features and body structure are unaltered, of course, but her hair and eyes are a matching shade of deep brown. Seeing the two most distinctive features that make her _Sakura _thus transformed is disconcerting, though and she takes a reflexive step backward. It takes her a few moments to gather herself, but when she does, she looks up and gives Itachi a slightly shaky smile. "Thanks."

He murmurs his assent, although before he can step toward he door, Sakura easily intercepts him, leaning against it and blushing a little. Itachi raises an eyebrow, somewhat nonplussed, but she preempts his question by gesturing toward his hair. "Aren't _you_ going to do anything?" she suggests pointedly. "You're going to stand out, too."

Itachi is forced to admit that it is an irritating, yet valid point, and he frowns a little, closing his eyes for a split second. Performing the henge on himself is considerably easier, since he does not have to deal with the resistance of foreign chakra, and the process is done in a mere moment. When he opens his eyes again, though, he finds Sakura gazing at him, rather astonished, and he turns toward the mirror interestedly.

"Ooh," Sakura can't help but breathe, somewhat awed, as she gazes at their reflections in utter fascination – he had unconsciously mirrored her, so that both of them have the exact same shade of deep brown hair and eyes. "We could be _siblings._" She can't decide whether the concept is amusing or strangely disturbing, and similarly, Itachi looks utterly revolted at the thought. Shrugging it aside, Sakura smirks, before flinging the bathroom door open and heading to the suite in order to find some high heels that will counteract the three-inch drag of her gown. Itachi watches as she unearths a pair of stilettos from the back of the closet, before flinging herself down on the bed and dragging her skirt up to her knees as she attempts to adjust the complicated straps around her ankles.

She is too immersed in her pursuit of bending the stilettos to her will to notice Itachi taking a seat beside her and glancing at her bare legs – _not_ her legs, just her footwear, Sakura corrects quickly – thoughtfully. "You shouldn't wear those," he says, at last. "They are far too impractical and will hinder us if it becomes necessary to perform a tactical evasion."

"Don't worry," Sakura waves the concern aside offhandedly, drawing one of her knees to her chest as she tests the shoe's fit. The sudden action causes the skirt to slide a good six inches higher on her thigh, and Itachi quickly finds the weave on the elaborate blankets to be rather fascinating. "Besides, my dress is too long anyway," she points out. "I don't want to be tripping over it if it becomes necessary to perform a _tactical evasion_, or while…" Sakura smirks a little again, deciding that she might as well entertain herself while she's at it. "Dancing, or whatever," she continues casually.

This certainly re-captures Itachi's attention; he looks back at her sharply. "Pardon?"

"We're going to have to kill _some_ time before we lure the contractor's prospective son-in-law to a dark corner of the mansion, and…you know," she explains in a too-patient tone. "It is an engagement party, too, so there's hardly anything else that's going to be going on."

The emotionless façade slips for a fraction of a second, leaving Itachi looking almost physically ill.

Sakura gives him her sweetest smile, before sliding off the bed and holding her hand out to him. "…So, Itachi, did you want to practice?"

-

_Later That Night_

-

"Never again."

This is the first time he's spoken to her in about half an hour, and he sounds utterly, deadly serious, but Sakura can't help but smile as Itachi unlocks the door and they step into their darkened suite. "No more crashing engagement parties and breaking up happy couples?" she teases a little, feeling him release both of their transformation techniques now that they are alone again, and she crosses over to the bed, sinking down on it with a sigh and basking in the few rays of moonlight that enter the window. "Or was it the dancing you had a problem with?"

Itachi gives her a deadpan look.

"Fine," Sakura sighs, before leaning back against the pillows and hugging her knees close – it is late, and she should undress and get ready for bed, but she doesn't want to take off the luxuriously decadent ruby red silk sheath just yet; it's easily the finest fabric that her skin has ever come in contact with. Itachi joins her quietly, and after a few almost comfortable moments of silence, Sakura realizes that in the past two weeks, this is perhaps the closest – figuratively and literally – that they've ever come to each other. It is hardly a huge step forward in their relationship, of sorts, but it has been enough to give her a _little_ hope for the future.

She is uncharacteristically quiet, and after a while longer of this strange behavior, Itachi chances a subtle glance over in her direction. He immediately notices that she _is_ awake, and looking off distantly out the window – although his attempts to block out all frivolous and extraneous detail, like the way the color of her gown is a liquid vermilion against her skin, and the fact that the return of her natural hair and eye colors are a welcome change – are ineffective, and that displeases him.

Almost as if on cue, Sakura starts talking quietly about some reconnaissance mission also involving an engagement party that she had performed as a genin, with her old team. She reminisces like this on occasion, and Itachi always just closes his eyes, letting the words wash over him. Besides Kisame, she is the only person who has ever attempted to really _talk_ to him in the past five years, and for one transient moment, he cannot remember why he always pushes her away.

"…And you got locked in a broom closet," Itachi finishes blankly, one sentence ahead of her.

Sakura blinks a few times in rapid succession, completely thrown for a loop. "Wait, what?" she asks uncertainly. "How did you –"

"Over dinner one and a half weeks ago, you mentioned the incidence in question in passing," Itachi says, by way of explanation.

Sakura stares at him, now outright perplexed. "You were _listening_? And…" she frowns, another thought striking her. "You _remembered_?"

"Of course," he replies, and for a brief moment, she could swear that he sounds slightly affronted. "I pride myself on my powers of observation, after all."

Sakura collapses back on the pillows anew, staring at the ceiling wide-eyed. "I do, too," she replies, somewhat injured. "But you don't give me anything to go on."

Itachi smirks, unable to resist the temptation that she has presented him with. "Just because I do not converse incessantly about indiscriminate matters does not mean that I give you nothing to go on. You simply lack the ability to read between the lines."

Sakura reflects sourly that if _any_ other man had just insulted her in this manner, she wouldn't have thought twice about pouncing on him and making him pay. As it is, though, she merely gives a muffled snarl of displeasure, before pulling herself out of bed and stalking toward the bathroom, arching her back a little and attempting to reach the zipper on the back of her gown as she does so. "Well, pardon _me_ for trying," she snaps irately, before slamming the door behind her.

-

Sakura slinks under the covers fifteen minutes later, dressed in Naruto's pajamas and already feeling terribly divested of the silk gown. She makes it a point to determinedly disregard Itachi, even though he is only a couple of feet away from her, and lies down with her back to him, burying her head in the pillow and thinking frustrated and unhappy thoughts.

It takes her only half an hour to drift off into sleep, and Itachi dispassionately observes the slow rise and fall of her slender, orange-clad shoulders.

"Seven years ago, I found myself in possession of a kitten," he tells the sleeping girl matter-of-factly. "I raised and cared for her until she attained maturity and mated with one of the Nara's cats – later, she moved onto their compound in preparation to raise her own kittens. At that time, I was too busy with ANBU to give her the attention and care she needed, and Sasuke was becoming quite devoted to his training. The Nara family had a boy about Sasuke's age who was more than content to spend all the time in the world with my cat and her litter of kittens, when they came, so I suppose everything worked out for the best."

On that note, Itachi retreats under the covers and falls into a similar state of silence, thinking thoughts that Sakura cannot even begin to guess it.

(However, Sakura does smile a little against her pillow, and not for the first time, she thanks Shikamaru for teaching her how to feign sleep so very convincingly.)

* * *

_to be continued_

* * *

:D

This was a bit of a transitional chapter, of sorts – it was supposed to show that Itachi and Sakura aren't going to get used to each other's disparate personalities easily or quickly, but in their own ways, both of them are trying to make things work. Don't worry, though; the next chapter officially starts the cycle of things heating up.

As always, feedback is very much appreciated. :)


	8. Springtime

_As always, thank you so much to everybody who was fantastic enough to leave a review. :)_

_-_

_Chapter Eight: Springtime_

_-_

Today is the first day of spring; the day, appropriately enough, that marks the annual first blossoming of the trees that are a certain pink-haired kunoichi's namesake. It's supposedly a time of renewal of freshness and beauty and _life…_

And incidentally enough, Sakura happens to be spending this oh-so-_special_ evening running desperately for her life.

She trips over an exposed tree root, bites her lip viciously in order to keep from swearing at the top of her lungs, and stumbles into the clearing at the center of the forest, looking around with slightly wild eyes. "Oh, kami, I'm sorry," she gasps, hastily dropping to her knees and grabbing her bag from the forest floor. "But we need to go. _Now._"

Itachi had been leaning against a solid boulder across from what had been their fire, apparently relaxed, but almost too quickly for her eyes to track the motion, he is standing again, his posture tense and combat-ready. Much to Sakura's combined distress and horror, he doesn't even look like he's thinking about moving a muscle; instead, his eyes bleed into swirling crimson as he stares unblinkingly toward the direction of Sakura's newfound pursuers.

This time, she doesn't even bother to attempt to stop herself from hissing a string of her most virulent profanities as she crosses the clearing toward him as fast as she can. Normally, Sakura would never have even considered entertaining this as a possible escape plan, but blind, desperate panic has a way of doing strange things to her psyche. In the next second, her grip locks onto Itachi's wrist as she physically drags him away from the clearing, and momentarily taken unawares by the sheer shock of the sudden contact, he takes a fraction of a moment too long to react. By then, they are already quite far away from the clearing (and, by extension, a good distance away from the Root hunters in pursuit of his partner) and Itachi throws the partner in question a hard glare.

"You—" he begins in his most dangerously silky tone, but Sakura cuts him off, waving her hands in distress.

"It isn't my shampoo! Or the soap, or the lip gloss! Just because you hate the way I smell doesn't mean you can blame the hunters' reappearance on it!"

"Keep your voice down," Itachi warns, easily evading a hanging vine and leading them on a sharp turn into the depths of the forest, in order to lay a makeshift false trail for the Root squad. "And I do not necessarily dislike your scent. I merely object to the fact that one can _smell_ it from a mile away."

Sakura takes a moment to give him a dirty look as she twists her body through a complex web of tree trunks that obstruct the beaten trail, while trying her best to take a moment to think about how far away the hunters are. From the slight sounds that she can make out and the faint path of their chakra signatures, the three of them are following the false trail – but she is fairly sure that won't last for long.

"We should deal with them now," Itachi observes clinically.

It takes her overly-stressed mind a moment to comprehend his meaning, but when she does, Sakura pales slightly and trips over a few loosely-packed stones and dirt, stumbling forward and catching herself against the bark of a tree. "No!" she snaps, aghast by the very idea. "I mean…they're still Konoha shinobi, and I can't – I won't…"

"Sakura," Itachi says sharply, and each word cuts her like a blade. "They have been hunting you for seven months, and _when_ they catch you, they will not hesitate to kill you slowly and painfully – after they take their time brutally torturing you in every conceivable way."

He is on the verge of saying more when he catches sight of the look on her face, and that halts him for a moment. Itachi can sense the hunters approaching again, and if it were not for the icy self-control that he has so painstakingly cultivated over the past ten years of his life, he would actually snarl a little, out of sheer frustration. In the depths of his mind, some part of him has acknowledged that he does find Sakura's company enjoyable, more or less, and he recognizes her capability as a kunoichi – but the degree of emotional weakness that she shows during situations like these is simply unacceptable.

For the second time that evening, Sakura bites her lip to stifle a scream; this time, it is Itachi who roughly grasps her wrist, pulling her close to him, and that is all her mind registers before everything – the dark forest, the rapidly approaching chakra signatures of the Root hunters, and even the feeling of the dirt beneath her boots and the cool night air against her skin – fades to black.

-

It seems like it could be either a second or an eternity later, but the next thing that Sakura is consciously aware of is staggering out of Itachi's arms as she feels the world spin beneath her feet. In an instinctive response to the overwhelming dizziness and nausea that seems to have washed over her, she collapses to her knees bonelessly, wrapping her arms around herself and letting her neck fall forward limply.

It takes a few minutes for the thoroughly disconcerting sensation to pass, and when it does, the first thing Sakura dizzily notices is the damp, muddy soil pressed against her knees. It hadn't been raining where the two of them had been earlier, and she looks up at her surroundings, still somewhat dazed. It's a lot colder and windier here, enough for her loose locks to be tossed about mercilessly in the breeze, and she shivers as she catches sight of the drops of moisture from an earlier rainstorm dripping off various leaves on trees. "What—"

A quick glance around the new environment confirms her suspicions, and she looks toward Itachi so fast that she almost cricks her neck. He is leaning against a tree, eyeing her dispassionately, and even in her somewhat drained state, Sakura has to marvel over the fact that he had just transported the two of them over a staggering distance, and doesn't look any worse for it. She tries to talk, but then coughs a few times, her shoulders shaking a little. "Where are we?" she asks, when she is able.

"As far away as I could possibly get us," Itachi replies evenly. Since there are no life-threatening situations to mandate any form of physical contact, he simply watches Sakura take a few deep, steadying breaths, before struggling to pull herself to her feet.

She uses the mossy, nearby bark of a tree as leverage, and leans against it when she is finished, visibly exhausted by the small effort. "There isn't any way that they could follow, right?" she pants, drawing one shaking hand over her forehead – obviously, the aftereffects of her earlier chase are beginning to take their toll on her.

"No," he says simply. "…However, you may want to reevaluate your priorities."

With that, Itachi merely turns and slinks away into the darkness, and despite her tiredness, Sakura follows, keeping pace with him. They walk in utter silence, and she is vaguely conscious that her skin is warm to the touch and a little flushed; likely, because of the utter tension of the past half hour – and the dawning realization of the truth in what Itachi had said to her earlier.

Sakura is distracted out of her troubled thoughts by a sudden clap of thunder overhead, and she looks up, startled to see a flash of bladed lightning slicing through the darkness of the night sky. Out of instinct more than anything, she steps closer to Itachi for a fraction of a second, and then, realizing the complete ridiculousness of that, quickly steps away again. "Should we…move a little faster?" Sakura suggests uncertainly, looking back and forth through the shadowed forest – she can't sense any of the presences that herald a large town or city nearby, but she doesn't want to be caught out in the open during a storm, either.

Itachi's gaze flickers to the sky, and he sighs minutely, drawing his cloak around himself. "That would be counterproductive," he responds, in his usual flat tone. "I admit that I am not familiar with this area – it merely happened to be the extent of my reach, and it does not seem that there are any nearby civilian areas where we could last out the storm."

"So we're just going to stay out here?" Sakura queries, absolutely _hating_ the way her voice becomes just a tad higher-pitched during the latter part of the sentence.

Of course, Itachi notices the subtle and unwilling inflection in tone, and he directs a somewhat amused glance toward her. "In essence, yes."

"Isn't it kind of unsafe, though?" Sakura presses, stepping over a rather large puddle of mud. "I mean, we'll have to stay under a tree, and trees attract lightning, and—"

This time, Itachi smirks a little, and Sakura belatedly realizes that he is an Uchiha – any dangers posed by fire and lightning mean nothing to him, as he has an exceptional degree of elemental control over both of them. "Sure, that's no problem for _you, _but I'm still bound by all of those mere mortal concerns," she points out sarcastically.

Itachi arches an eyebrow, unaffected by the scowl of displeasure on her face. "Really."

This time, Sakura _does_ step into a rather large puddle of mud, illuminated a second too late by an even more menacing flash of lighting. The pink-haired kunoichi glowers at her now rather gross boots, her bad mood now threatening to reach epic proportions. "_Damn_ it! And, yes – _really._"

Much to her indignation, Itachi makes a small, amused sound in the back of his throat upon witnessing her plight. "Not necessarily."

Before Sakura can politely ask for clarification – or scoop a handful of mud off the sole of her boots and pelt it at his immaculate mane, which is admittedly the likelier course of action – Itachi distracts her by stepping off the path. He weaves through a few of the trees, before coming to a halt at the base of an extremely large oak; it isn't as toweringly tall as the others around it, but it has a considerably more extensive canopy.

Without saying a word, Itachi removes the sleek, plain black cloak that he had purchased a week ago – to wear over his Akatsuki robe, just in case – and matter-of-factly goes about strategically ripping the seams at the sleeves and on the sides apart. Before Sakura's astonished gaze, the perfectly serviceable garment is transformed into a makeshift tarp, which Itachi settles onto the damp soil at the base of the tree. That accomplished, he sits down on it, resting his back against the moist trunk as he looks up into the stormy sky impassively.

Fighting the urge to stare further, Sakura directs a rapid look upward instead, and shudders upon seeing an even closer flash of lightning knife across the sky. Since Itachi obviously isn't in one of his '_plays-well-with-others'_ moods (she tries her best not to scoff at the very thought), maybe she would be safe if she punched a crater into the ground and hid under there until the storm passes; it would be underground and therefore farther from the lightning, so she would be less likely to be stricken…

"What are you doing?"

The blank inquiry interrupts her reverie, and Sakura cracks one of her eyes open just enough so that she can glare at the older male. "I'm trying to make some arrangements, if you don't mind," she says through gritted teeth – the repeated crashes of thunder, gusting wind, lightning, and impending rain that she just _feels_ in the air are doing nothing to improve her state of mind.

Itachi raises an eyebrow, looking her bedraggled and still-shivering appearance over with an inscrutable expression in his eyes, before rather plainly directing his gaze to the sheltered area beside him. "Sit down."

Sakura is fairly sure that her jaw drops at this latest provocation. "_You_ may come out fine if we get hit by lightning, but I'll – kami, I'll end up like those deep fried vegetables we ate last night!" she retorts heatedly.

Maybe it's just a trick of the light, but for a moment, Sakura could _swear_ that he rolls his eyes at her dramatics a little, in the kind of age-appropriate gesture that she hardly ever sees from him. "You will not," Itachi counters smoothly. "…You _are_ with me, after all."

This statement is so calm and self-assured that it makes Sakura blink, and it almost drives her to punching the ground and retreating into the depths of a crater anyway, just because of his sheer degree of cool, insufferable arrogance. More infuriating, though, is the knowledge that Itachi _is_ telling the truth, and Sakura takes a few steps forward, settling down next to him tentatively. She makes sure that they are as respectable a distance away from each other as possible with both of their backs braced against the truck, while still remaining on the tarp. Despite herself, Sakura leans against the tree a little more securely, closing her eyes and melting at the welcome opportunity to give her tired limbs some relaxation.

The rain starts a few moments afterward, and it is heavy and torrential enough to make her wince, even though the thick canopy of the tree is enough to prevent all but a few raindrops from spattering on them. When Sakura closes her eyes and tries her best to ignore the howling of the wind, the sound of the rain is almost relaxing, and after a little while, she is nearly lulled into sleep by virtue of that alone.

…This peaceful state, incidentally enough, only lasts a few minutes, because then, she starts to shiver. It isn't surprising – both the wind and rain are freezing cold, and even the iciness of the soil has begun to creep through the tarp beneath them. Sakura wraps her uncomfortably bare arms around herself and tries her best to regulate her breathing and force the involuntary physical reaction to calm. Much to her dismay, while she is doing this, she becomes hyper-aware of Itachi's presence a few inches away from her; he is still swathed from the collarbone down in his Akatsuki cloak, which she knows _must_ be comfortably warm. Sakura grits her teeth to keep them from chattering, because she will not engage in such a blatantly embarrassing admission of her own weakness in front of_ him_, of all people.

It is only when she curls her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around them and still keeps trembling minutely that Sakura fully appreciates just how climactically inappropriate and short her skirt is. And that perhaps she should invest in a non-sleeveless vest. Or maybe that she should just go all out and buy one of those mid-thigh length winter parkas that Hinata always wears. The wind picks up again, and Sakura can't help but exhale despairingly, as she curls forward and rests her forehead on her damp, bent knees.

Just as she comes to the morose conclusion that she really does hate her life, Itachi sighs almost inaudibly. When she looks back up at him, Sakura finds that he's unfastened his cloak, and merely wrapped one half of it around him like a blanket; he holds the other out to her expectantly, and despite the cold, she can't help but cringe back from it. It is a deeply ingrained reaction; the slash across the insignia on her forehead protector says otherwise, but Sakura is a Konoha shinobi at heart, and the very thought of wearing enemy colors is enough to turn her stomach a little. It kills part of her on the inside, but Sakura shakes her head slowly, inching away from him. "…I'm fine."

Her thoughts must have been reflected in her eyes, because Itachi's eyes narrow visibly. "Take it," he orders tersely.

Sakura knows that for him even to be making an offer like this is a pretty groundbreaking moment, and her resolve weakens somewhat. "But—" she protests halfheartedly.

Before she can even blink, the other half of the Akatsuki cloak is around her anyway, enveloping her in surprising warmth, and she finds herself sitting shoulder-to-shoulder – or, almost – with Itachi. Sakura blinks, rather astounded by the random act of kindness, before slowly drawing her half of the cloak closer around her. "…Thanks?" she says uncertainly.

Itachi sniffs slightly, as if reading her thoughts and then deciding to purposely contradict them. "Your shivering was annoying."

It may be an irrational response, but Sakura smiles a little, resting her head against the rough bark of the tree. "Sure."

After a while, her body relaxes into the welcome warmth of the makeshift blanket; she can barely feel the bite of the wind underneath it, and without that, the sound of the rain is hardly unpleasant and regains its previous soothing qualities. Sakura is vaguely conscious of feeling drowsy, which is predictable enough – the two of them had woken up at sunrise, which feels like an eternity ago. The only thing that keeps her awake is the fact that her neck and back are slowly going stiff after being pressed up against the trunk of the tree for so long, and that only adds to the already-present soreness in her muscles from the hips down.

It is an uncomfortable position, but much to her disquietude, after Sakura shifts her body minutely against the tree, trying to find a more relaxing one, she instead catches herself gazing at Itachi's shoulder longingly.

_Longingly._

There are so many things wrong with this situation that Sakura actually wakes up fully because she is so utterly nauseous at herself for even allowing herself to entertain such an outlandish idea. If it were any of her male teammates or friends in Konoha, she wouldn't have thought twice about pressing herself just a little bit closer, leaning against his chest, and resting her head on his shoulder in order to get a little bit more comfortable – but it's not. It's _Itachi_, for the kami's sake, and Sakura is firmly convinced that the day he allows a casual intimacy like _that _is the day that hell will actually freeze over.

She tries to shove those troublesome thoughts out of her mind and just make do with the tree, but the damage has been done. Even under the cloak, she begins to notice Itachi is naturally warmer than she is, and his usual scent of pine and spearmint is only brought out by the rain. From what she can see of the subtle but defined lean musculature of his shoulders, arms, and chest, she's also willing to bet that leaning against him would be _very_—

Sakura freezes, aghast at herself. _Damn it, let lightning strike me down right here where I stand – um, sit – if I _really_ just thought about how good it would feel if I could curl up against _him_ and…and…_

Sakura's desperate interior monologue is interrupted by a sudden flash of lightning, this one dangerously close to them, and Itachi actually twitches a little, startled, as the girl beside him gives a muffled screech and pulls the cloak up over her head, before curling up into a little ball. He stares, utterly nonplussed, until she surfaces a few minutes later, blushing so hard that it feels as if her face is emitting heat. It most definitely isn't any form of concern for her physical, emotional, or mental state that prompts Itachi to inquire after her well-being, but Sakura insists that she is fine nevertheless, before turning a little, and resting the left side of her body at an awkward angle against the tree. She rations that this way, there are no temptations for her to do anything untoward – and if her body should so happen to fall against Itachi's while she's asleep, there's really no way he can realistically blame her for it.

After that entirely strange experience, it doesn't take long for her to lapse into a thoroughly traumatized sleep, but Itachi remains awake and alert; he senses that they are in a secure location, but entertaining a state of constant vigilance has never hurt him. Still, to his chagrin, small fragments of his attention continue to drift back to Sakura; after a few minutes of clinical observation, Itachi impassively concludes that all the muscles in her neck and back will be knotted beyond belief by sunrise. He frowns for a moment, because if that is the case, she will slow them both down – but he does not think that there is any possible way to ease her into a more beneficial location short of wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer, so that she can lean against his chest.

The very thought is enough to make Itachi flinch almost imperceptibly, and he closes his eyes and settles the back of his head against the tree, slowly and systematically stripping his mind of every thought and sensation save for the sounds of the wind and the rain.

-

When Itachi opens his eyes again, the sun has just risen in a darkly cloudy sky, and his first instinct is to berate himself for allowing such vulnerability; he had only intended to meditate for a short period of time in order to _avoid_ falling asleep, of all things. His second is to look sharply down to the side, and when he does, the only concession to the emotion he feels is betrayed in a tiny quirk of one eyebrow.

Apparently, in her sleep, his partner had fallen off the tarp. Into a puddle of mud.

How very…interesting.

-

Sakura wakes up in complete, all-consuming pain from head to toe.

At first, she actually thinks that she's dead, but then she feels something cold and wet and kind of squishy pressed against her cheek and half of her hair, and the stiffness in her muscles begins to register. She tries to say something, but her vocal cords don't cooperate, so that all that comes out is a strangled-sounding moan of utter agony. Her limbs feel all twisted up and folded into odd angles, too, and she finally opens her eyes blearily.

The first thing she notices is that everything is horizontal. Meaning that at some point, she had ended up…on her side? Strange. Next, she notices a blur of red and black – Itachi. Oddly enough, he seems to be kneeling in front of her, staring at her with an expression in his eyes that she's never quite seen before. Now feeling somewhat curious as to what's going on, Sakura twists her legs around so that they are under her and tries to push herself up into a sitting position, but then—

_Squelch. _

Sakura stops dead, looking down at where the right side of her face had just been.

Her brain takes a few moments to register the sight of a large and nasty-looking puddle of mud with a suspiciously face-shaped indentation in it.

The next logical step is for her to reach cautiously up to her cheek, and then run her fingers through her hair as an expression of horror spreads over her face, and…

_Oh, hell, no._

"…You willingly let me fall into a puddle of mud?" Sakura looks and sounds like she's torn between bursting into tears or lunging toward Itachi in an attempt to tear his throat out with her teeth – and admittedly, the situation _had_ been somewhat amusing prior to this, but now that she sounds dangerously close to taking the first course of action, Itachi suddenly finds himself wishing that he had just let her rest against him last night, and dealt with the emotional repercussions of such an action at a later date.

This is uncharacteristic behavior on his part, to say the least, although Itachi is saved from the potentially disturbing necessity of reflecting on it further by the fact that Sakura actually seems to be biting her lip to keep it from trembling, and he sighs, before standing up and holding out a hand to her. "There should be a river nearby, about two or three miles due west," he says evenly, neither confirming or denying the accusation.

Sakura makes it a point to ignore the offered hand and pull herself to her feet on her own, before stalking off in the previously indicated direction, her hips taking on an unquestionably irritated sway as she does so. Itachi watches her for a few moments, before catching himself in the act and subsequently looking vaguely unsettled.

Today just doesn't look like it's going to be his day.

-

Sakura ends up finding the nearest town in her book of contacts, after spending about half an hour kneeling over the freezing river, scrubbing the mud and slime out of her hair and face. She takes vindictive pleasure in every squeeze of strawberry shampoo she uses, and after a while, finally feels passably clean. Deciding to uphold her vow of not talking to _stupid_ partners who don't look out for other partners by purposely letting them fall into mud puddles, she simply points at the town's entry in her directory and jerks her head to the south, before starting to walk away. Knowing Itachi, he probably either doesn't care that he's getting the silent treatment – or he's secretly amused by it, but still, he has the grace to respect her silence.

The town is about an hour's walk away; it is small and nondescript, and it makes Sakura realize just how much she misses life in the city where she had first met Takashi and Ryo, but the inn at least seems satisfactory. The lobby is cramped and cluttered with cute little artifacts and figurines, and she drifts through, eyeing each of them curiously. Distantly, she hears Itachi slide some extra currency across the counter and quietly request that the innkeeper give them their best room for the next week or so, and she might have considered it a small triumph, if not for the fact that she is too busy staring at the numbers inked onto a small wall calendar. The image above the days of the month shows some really adorable kittens frolicking in a field, but that isn't the reason the calendar has captured her attention so.

She feels Itachi's presence at her back as he silently observes her, and forgetting the necessity for giving him the cold shoulder, Sakura glances over at him. "What day is it?"

Normally she wouldn't be caught dead asking such a thing, but in the past seven months of being a missing-nin, things like dates and time have become trivialities. Everything blurs into a long, steady stream of early-rising days and late, late nights and numbingly long and exhausting days spent performing hundreds and hundreds of the usual missions; now, Sakura only registers the vaguest details about the world around her, like what season it happens to be. It had been late summer, bleeding into the beginnings of autumn – August – when she had left Konoha, and now springtime is just beginning to dawn, which should mean…

Itachi tilts his head to the side a fraction of an inch, looking thoughtful. His expression shows the faintest trace of distaste as he regards the frolicking kittens above the calendar, but his usual steely focus returns in the next moment. "The twenty-first of March," he observes absentmindedly, before returning his attention to her. "…Why?"

Sakura gives him a small smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, before turning her back on the calendar dismissively and beginning to walk away. "It's nothing important."

-

Three little-known facts about Itachi:

He adores tea in all of its incarnations (known only by Kisame and Sakura), enjoys reading abstract forms of poetry (suspected by Kisame, although never confirmed, much to his former partner's disappointment, and _thankfully_ never suspected by Sakura), and absolutely despises volatility (suspected by both Kisame and Sakura, again.)

Over the several weeks that he has been acquainted with the kunoichi in question, Itachi has picked apart and analyzed Sakura's body language a hundred times over – which is habitual in his interactions with others, so it most certainly isn't as if he is paying any special attention to her, or anything. Be that as it may, he can read every subtle nuance of her mood through a gesture as simple as the way she slowly bites her lower lip while feeling worried or anxious, or when simply thinking too hard. Sakura is an open book in every possible way, and Itachi has learned her predictabilities, physical and emotional, with ease. He has had no company but his own for so long that, admittedly, he finds studying her enjoyable – in a purely academic sense, of course.

It had taken him quite a while to get used to, considering that this attitude in others is really quite foreign to him, but Itachi soon comes to discover that Sakura is unfailingly, constantly, continuously…cheerful. Despite the gravity of her circumstances, she is still naturally vivacious and outgoing and so _damn_ talkative – it is enough to set his nerves on edge and it even gives him a headache sometimes. Still, he thinks that he is slowly getting used to her, and that is satisfying.

Then, unpleasantly enough, Sakura throws all of her previous constancy to the wind and allows her mood to take a complete, one-hundred-eighty degree twist.

Itachi doesn't care that she is so much quieter and more withdrawn all of a sudden; he really doesn't. If anything, it is better for both of them. It is just that, during the prolonged silences between them while standing watch over the perimeter of their latest contractor's fortress, or over dinner, despite himself, he just keeps waiting for her to start talking about something utterly random and trivial, or offer some sort of strange observation about some aspect of their surroundings, as she always does. But Sakura doesn't, and Itachi doesn't _care_ that she is not herself…he merely finds it somewhat inconvenient, because he had finally grown used to her being the way she was.

(Or, at least, that's what he keeps telling himself.)

Itachi never broaches the subject with her, and matches her silence with one of his own. He is fairly certain that an adolescent girl could have a million different reasons to exhibit sudden moodiness like this, and he really doesn't even _want_ to think about any one of the reasons in question.

…Except that, late during the night of the twenty-seventh of March, is _exactly_ what Itachi finds himself doing. When he realizes exactly where – or, more precisely, who – his train of thought keeps returning to, the elder Uchiha abandons all thoughts of sleep and sits up straight, bracing his back against the headboard and rubbing his eyes, the intense displeasure evident in every one of his tense movements. It takes his eyes a few moments to re-focus in the dark, but when they do, he notices a rather familiar form curled up on the window seat, throwing strange, moonlit shadows throughout the room.

Sakura does not notice him; she has her arms wrapped around her knees, and has pushed the curtains back so that she can stare out into the night, unimpeded. The moon is full and it bathes her in an eerily incandescent glow, and Itachi finds himself simply taking her in, again; as he had done about a week ago when she had interrupted him during a similar moment.

"Sakura."

His voice is a little sharper than he had intended for it to be, and predictably enough, Sakura actually jumps a little, before twisting around and catching sight of him as he joins her. Itachi raises an eyebrow at her skittishness, before glancing out of the window as well. "What are you doing?"

Sakura stares at him, and her surprise at the fact that he would actually _ask_ is obvious. "I'm…just thinking," she mumbles, before looking around the room, somewhat distracted. "And I've been waiting a little, I guess – do you know what time it is?"

Her propensity to ask odd questions seems to be increasing by the day, but one glance at the position of the moon is all that Itachi needs to ascertain the answer. "A little after midnight," he replies evenly. "Why?"

He expects her to shrug off the inquiry, as she had done before, but this time, Sakura smiles a little, looking as if she's miles away, even as she leans her back against the wall, tracing a few abstract patterns with her fingernails onto the cool marble of the window seat. "Because that means I'm sixteen, now."

It takes a few moments for Itachi to realize the significance of this statement, and a few more for him to figure out what, if anything, he is supposed to do. He performs a quick mental calculation, and then Sakura's sudden pensiveness and general aura of melancholy during the past week begins to make more sense. In the end, Itachi ends up patting her on the hand just once, and almost flinchingly – as a result, Sakura looks up so fast that she almost cricks her neck, but by then, Itachi has already withdrawn his light grip and is standing a few feet away, looking somewhat uncomfortable. "You should rest," he tells her a little awkwardly.

Sakura has been feeling off-balance and extraordinarily lonely for this entire week, and maybe that is why she suddenly wants nothing more than to reach out and take his hand and maybe pull him back to her, so that he can give her something, _anything_ to just hold on to, but then that sudden, persistent wave of painful nostalgia sweeps her off her feet again, leaving her to merely stare at Itachi, looking a little lost. "I – I will," she manages. "Just give me a few minutes."

Itachi nods and retreats wordlessly, leaving Sakura alone once again. She takes a deep breath, before stretching her legs out in front of her, and tilting her head all the way back.

This is the second March twenty-eighth that's passed since the mission that her parents never came back from. Sakura thinks about them every day, of course, but this particular day is always the worst. Last year, she had woken up alone in the apartment that Tsunade-shishou had rented for her, and curled up on her side and cried uncontrollably for almost two hours, until Ino had literally broken in through the window and simply held her for another hour; in the end, her, Shikamaru, and Chouji had been the only things that had even gotten Sakura through the day.

Even then, there had still been the small, reassuring comforts of familiarity. For lunch, the three of them had taken her to the restaurant that her parents took her to, after she had made genin, and by that time of day, Sakura could even manage to laugh, a little. Afterwards, they had stretched out on their backs on Team Ten's grassy training meadows, talking quietly, and walked the length of that red bridge several times over, nibbling on grape Popsicles that Chouji had bought them. The day had been finished at Ichiraku's, of course, and it just _hurts_ so much, all over again, knowing that today, when she needs them more than ever, she won't have them – or Naruto or Sai, Lee or Tenten, even Neji and Hinata…and she misses every single one of them so much that it nearly makes her sick.

Sakura rests her head against her knees and aches for Naruto's laughter, for Sai's blankly confused gaze and even the somewhat-almost-affectionate way he called her _ugly_, for Ino's loud, overbearing affection, and for Shikamaru and Chouji's more reserved, but no less strong, friendship. She won't sit pressed shoulder-to-shoulder with them at Ichiraku's this year, while Ino flings boxes upon boxes of decidedly inappropriate presents at her and Naruto flirts playfully, and it feels irrational to even be thinking this, but it feels like the first time that she's realized that she can never have that back. There are times when this entire experience takes on a surreal quality, and she can almost convince herself that she's just on a particularly long, dangerous mission and that sometime soon, she will just be able to turn around and walk back home and be greeted with open arms.

Except that there's nowhere to walk back to, anymore. The place that Sakura had called _home_, that she had loved and sworn absolute allegiance to, is almost unrecognizable, now, and if she is caught within one hundred miles of it, she will be tortured and killed. This hurts, yes, but the knowledge that she doesn't even know when she will ever see any of her closest friends again is a million times worse. Sakura has tried her best to _not_ think about any of this since she had first left, but tonight, the walls that she had so painstakingly crafted are cracking and splintering, and they threaten to overwhelm her with the sheer force of all of that repressed emotion.

The depressing, disjointed fragments of thought continue to swirl about her mind erratically, but Sakura closes her eyes against them, her fingers gripping tightly enough into her elbows to leave bruises. She tries to clear her mind, to utilize the meditation techniques that Shizune had always been trying to teach her, but it is, as always, an exercise in futility.

Sakura pushes the curtains away from the window just a tiny bit, before lightly resting her flushed forehead against the chilly glass. It had rained earlier, and she rubs the tips of her fingers along the glass, making absentminded swirls and shapes, and wishing that instead of the day just beginning, it could already be ending.

-

Most of March twenty-eighth is a day like any other.

It's cold and threatens to rain from the very beginning, and Sakura tries her best not to think about how Konoha is always warm and sunny. She eats soggy cinnamon waffles with too much syrup – provided by the inn – for breakfast, and because Itachi considers waffles to be beneath his dignity, she also watches _him_ stoically suffer through two slices of sawdust-dry and somewhat burnt toast. Once she is finished, Sakura is just about to go back up to their room and get a little bit of her money, so that she can peruse what the town has in terms of shopping, and maybe even buy herself something small, but when she vocalizes this desire to Itachi, he just stares at her for a few moments. "Later," he says, finally. "We should report for duty now."

This startles Sakura out of her cloud of muted dismay. "What?" she asks sharply, regaining a little bit of her customary attitude as she drops her fork on her plate, where it lands with a loud clatter. "But it's so _early_."

Itachi winces, displeased at the sound. "Earlier this morning, I requested that we come in a few hours in advance, so that we may complete our requisite hours in a timely fashion," and he rises from the small table in order to dispose of his plate, so that his back is to her. "…I presumed that you would enjoy an evening off, in light of the circumstances," he explains, a little stiffly, in response to her unasked question.

Between the weather and her own general mood this past week, Sakura doesn't think that she wants to do anything spectacularly out of the ordinary this evening, but the sentiment is surprisingly considerate, coming from him. So she smiles a little, the small gesture feeling unfamiliar but sincere on her lips. "Thank you," she says, and means it.

For a brief moment, Itachi looks like he might say something more, but then he just inclines his head a fraction of an inch and slips out of the kitchen, leaving Sakura to prod the few remaining bits of soggy waffles, and after she finds herself in this state of solitude, the pink-haired kunoichi rakes her gloved fingers through her hair and allows herself the luxury of one long sigh.

-

It isn't a good day.

While leaving, they pass a window display filled with colorful balloons just like the ones that Kakashi-sensei, Naruto, and even Sasuke had gotten for her during her thirteenth and only birthday that she had spent as a part of Team Seven, and as a result, Sakura keeps her eyes fixated on the road straight ahead for the rest of the walk. There are a thousand trivial, insignificant reminders of Konoha and of her friends that she seems to notice all at once, and it is…inconvenient, to say the least.

It is cold at the top of the stone battlements, and Sakura looks down at the distant spectacle of the treetops and town; they are several stories above the ground, and the view is spectacular. Everything is cloaked by a fine, thin mist of silvery-gray fog, though, and while normally that would bother her, today Sakura can actually kind of appreciate it. She can't seem to focus on what she is doing, though – much to her dismay, she finds her focus lapsing every few minutes, to somewhere – anywhere – but here.

Strangely, Itachi doesn't say anything about it. On any other day, he wouldn't think twice about offering some sort of acerbic comment directed at her apparent inability to stay on task. As the two of them stand guard in silence, for the first time, Sakura is a little grateful that Itachi is the way he is – which is a little surprising, because she usually spends a lot of time wishing he could be less detached and more sociable and just better for _her_ in general. But she is glad for his sensitivity, and for his quietness; if she felt like talking, oddly enough, Sakura thinks that Itachi would actually listen, even though it is unlikely that he would offer any sort of verbal feedback whatsoever. She hates to admit it, though, but being with him is infinitely better than being alone.

Speaking of which…

Where _is_ Itachi, anyway?

"…Sakura."

_Great. _Sakura winces imperceptibly, turning around and getting ready to be berated for her visible lapse of attention. "Sorry, I was just—"

Before she can even finish her sentence, a mug of something steaming hot and smelling strongly and welcomingly of chocolate and marshmallows is unceremoniously pressed into her hands, and Sakura blinks, looking down at it. "What…"

Itachi raises an eyebrow impassively, before turning away and returning to his post on the opposite battlement. "Hopefully, it will help you overcome the problems posed by your decidedly juvenile and unbecomingly short attention span."

At this, Sakura chokes a little on her sip of hot chocolate, but as Itachi is a safe distance away, can do nothing but glare at him. He merely smirks, decidedly unaffected by it, and Sakura waves at him, before offering her most innocent smile. "Thank you for being so _sweet _today, Itachi! You're really making my special day _that much _better!"

Upon faced with this accusation, Itachi turns back around slowly and stares at her as if she had just sprouted giant green antlers from her forehead.

Turning away, Sakura laughs a little, feeling a slight weight lift from her shoulders. Maybe today won't be so horrible, after all.

-

_Later That Evening_

-

Sakura growls a little out of sheer frustration, standing in front of the small heating unit, back in their room in the inn. After they had finished their tedious hours guarding the fortress, Itachi had come back to their room to relax, while Sakura had opted to go out and venture around the town on her own, in a rather emptier echo of the epic shopping trips she, Ino, and Tenten would undertake on any one of their birthdays. It had been a little lonely, yes, but at least she had purchased a couple of small things for herself, which never hurts.

On her way back, though, it had started pouring, and in the time it had taken her to return to the inn, Sakura got utterly soaked. To make matters worse, Itachi had been sitting cross-legged on the floor, reading something out of a plain black book, and the fleeting expression of amusement that had crossed his face upon catching sight of her drenched countenance had been absolutely infuriating. Fifteen minutes later, as she is still trying to dry herself off in front of the heater, while rubbing her chakra-coated hands over her limbs and the rest of her body in an attempt to speed the process, she can still just _feel_ the way he must be smirking internally.

As if Itachi had sensed the unpleasant thoughts directed toward his general area, out of the corner of her eye, Sakura sees him carefully mark his page and set the book aside, before rising. "I assume that you would prefer to remain here?" he suggests, picking his Akatsuki cloak back up from where it had been thrown over the back of the chair and shrugging it on again.

Sakura spares a moment to give him a dirty look, wringing a few locks of her hair out on the carpet. "Of course not, seeing as I'm in prime condition to have an absolutely splendid night out with you right now."

"Age is doing your temperament no favors, Sakura," Itachi replies, although he still looks somewhat entertained at the emotional responses that he can elicit from her. "Do you have any preferences?"

Sakura runs her chakra-warmed fingers through her hair and down her neck, stopping their downward path abruptly on her collarbone, in order to give him a slight smirk. "Why don't you surprise me, for once?"

Itachi pauses momentarily, considering the merits of this suggestion. "I suppose that would be rather appropriate," he muses aloud.

With that, he leaves the room, and the door shuts with a soft _click_ behind him. Outside, there is a distant rumble of thunder, and Sakura sighs quietly. The circumstances may not be perfect by any means, but at least she has a safe, dry place to spend the rest of the night. After drawing the curtains over the window – lightning bothers her, even though she would rather die than admitting it aloud – she returns to the heater and sinks to her knees in front of it, letting the welcome heat wash over her back. She had peeled off her knee-high boots upon getting in, and now she buries her cold feet into the warm space between the carpet and the underside of the heater.

Inner Sakura offhandedly decides that being still more-or-less uncomfortably damp and fairly cuddling up to a heating appliance in a deserted hotel room far away from everything and everybody she loves is a completely pathetic way to pass one's sixteenth birthday. Sakura glowers at her unconscious mind, not needing yet another reminder of this fact, but before she has a chance to follow this thought to completion, her concentration is abruptly shattered by the completely unwelcome realization that she suddenly isn't exactly _alone_ in her room.

At first, Sakura chalks it up to paranoia and presses herself closer to the heater unconsciously, her muscles tensing warily as she senses the growing concentration of a vaguely familiar chakra on the other side of the room. She tries to pull herself to her feet, but then the deer appears in the center of the room, and Sakura's muscles suddenly go limp with shock, and she finds herself sitting back on the floor, staring at it with wide eyes.

After the initial moment of shock, Sakura is able to easily deduce that the small brown deer is an animal summons – judging from the telltale concentration of chakra immediately before its appearance, and of course, the seal on the top of its head – and in the next second, her mind links the animal to the only person she knows who would have such a summons. Feeling herself relax slightly, Sakura reaches her hand out to the summons, who just eyes her cautiously, as if wondering if this is the right girl.

It makes her feel slightly stupid, but Sakura tries to modulate her voice, making it as soothing as possible as she softly indicates to the deer summons that it would be safe to come closer. After a few more moments, the doe acquiesces, stepping forward on long, slender legs. Now that she knows who it belongs to, Sakura can appreciate just how absolutely adorable the young animal is, but it seems a little skittish, so she refrains from reaching out to stroke its soft, chocolate-colored and white-spotted coat. She can see that it has a few brightly-wrapped packages tied to its back with ribbon, though, and then the pink-haired kunoichi approaches the summons slowly, as not to alarm it.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she whispers, still somewhat unsure of why she's talking to a summons who seems too shy to respond to anybody but the Nara who had contracted it. Sakura reaches out tentatively, plucking at the thick length of red ribbon that ties the packages, and within a few moments, it comes loose, leaving the few packages to tumble to the floor.

The doe turns its neck to look Sakura in the eye, and Sakura can't help but beam at it. "Thank you so much!"

If anything, the summons looks a little disconcerted at being faced with so much enthusiasm, and in the next moment, it steps back and vanishes in a swirl of leaves.

Still somewhat stunned by the sudden appearance of Shikamaru's animal summons _here_, of all things (he must have just given the animal some indication of her physical appearance and chakra signature, and told her to find her, wherever she was), Sakura takes Ino, Chouji's, and Shikamaru's presents in her hands and settles back against the heater, relaxing once again as she just holds them. It sounds irrational, but they even _smell_ like home – a combination of floral scents from the Yamanaka flower shop, the unique smell of deer and faint smoke, and of course, the faint undertone of the salty potato chips that Chouji would always carry with him. Uncaring of how ridiculous this probably looks, Sakura closes her eyes, just breathing them in as the powerful wash of homesickness overwhelms her.

Once she gathers herself somewhat, Sakura picks up the first package, something rectangular and wrapped in red. After she tugs the wrapping paper free gently, two large books of the latest edition of food vouchers, proudly boasting to be applicable in all five countries and towards ninety-five percent of restaurants, fall into her lap. She smiles, of course, and a small note flutters out at the end; written in Chouji's neat script, wishing her a happy birthday, and begging her to remember that she's still growing, and therefore, five square meals a day are absolutely essential. Laughing a little at the very thought, Sakura tucks the note into the first book, and sets both of them aside tenderly. She remembers how she and Ino would chide the sweet but dietarily unwise Akimichi relentlessly for thinking that eating ice cream and Korean barbeque all day was remotely healthy, but now, Sakura decides that when she sees Chouji next, she will join him on one of his culinary excursions and enjoy every moment of it.

The next present is enveloped in wrapping paper of a shimmering, radiant cerulean blue that only makes her think of one person, and Sakura feels her heart quicken in anticipation as she reaches for it. Unlike the last one, the note is pinned prominently to the front, and written in sparkly blue gel pen that is so _Ino_ that the reminder hurts.

_Dear Sakura,_

_I don't have a lot of time to write this, because I'm not even supposed to be at the Nara compound, but Shikamaru and Chouji snuck me out a little earlier, because I mean, these are _totally _special circumstances._

_There are so many things I'd like to say to you, but I guess they'll have to wait until later. Because we will see each other again soon, Forehead, I'm sure of it. For now, just know that I love you and I miss you so much. _– these words have been underlined so much that the gel pen had scratched right through the paper, and despite her best efforts, Sakura's throat tightens, and then closes over completely.

…_And, yeah. I don't know if you'll ever get a chance to use this, but we did promise each other a long time ago that we'd buy these for each other on our sixteenth birthdays. Actually, screw that. You _have_ to wear this, Forehead Girl. You're going to look absolutely stunning – and I really wish I could see it._

At this point, Sakura stops reading, her gaze going to the sleekly wrapped package disbelievingly. She remembers their long-ago promise, of course – Ino's sixteenth birthday had been two and a half months ago, and she had done a ton of extra missions, slept in the forest, and survived off soldier pills for half of a week to pay for the beautiful sky-blue and silver kimono that she had sent to her. But their situations are so different, and Sakura doesn't even want to _think_ about how much Ino had risked in leaving Konoha – disobeying the confinement mandate – for an afternoon in order to get to the closest civilian town where they sold such things.

She finishes the note, committing each word to memory, and then folds it up carefully, before tucking it into the inner pocket of her vest, as close to her heart as possible. Sakura is very gentle with the wrapping, undoing it as tentatively as possible, and when it finally comes free, she can do nothing but stare at the gorgeous crimson silk kimono, painstakingly embroidered with sakura flowers, drifting maple leaves, and delicate cranes – all in shimmering gold thread. She is a bit wary about even touching it, but when she does, it feels wonderful against her fingers, and Sakura hurriedly sets it to the side, not wanting to get any threatening teardrop stains on the fine material.

Sakura feels too numb to even attempt opening Shikamaru's olive-green wrapped present, the last in the pile, but at the same time, she doesn't want to just leave it. Like Ino's, his note is pinned to the front, written in his distinctive spidery handwriting and simple black ink, but unlike Ino's, his is concise and to the point.

_Sakura,_

_As you probably know, Danzou kept me as one of his assistants, and I was supposed to be cleaning out Hokage Tower a few weeks ago. I found these in an old cupboard, interestingly enough – next to papers that nominated you for the jounin exams as soon as you were a few months past sixteen. I think she…wanted to give them to you after you passed the exams. I thought you would appreciate having these._

_Happy birthday, and take care._

The note falls from her grip, and Sakura unwraps the last package with hands that tremble very slightly, until she just stares at what is in her lap.

An olive green turtleneck, and a matching flak jounin vest with a renowned and very familiar insignia on the back. Both of them are slightly worn, but in good condition – enough for the remnants of the previous owner's chakra signature (one as familiar as her own) to still be lingering within the very fiber of the material. These had been custom-made for Tsunade, commissioned by her grandfather, the First Hokage, and Sakura can't count the amount of pictures she had seen of her mentor in her younger days, dressed in this very ensemble, standing next to Jiraiya or Dan and smiling proudly.

Sakura doesn't even realize that she is crying until she sees the small teardrops collide with the flak vest, staining the dark green even darker. She tries to stop, because crying isn't going to do her any favors; it won't bring Tsunade back, it won't get rid of Danzou, it won't turn back time and leave her with Naruto, Ino, Shikamaru, Chouji, Sai – but she can't. It is the first time that she has let herself cry since her first week away from Konoha, and she hates it, but the months of deeply suppressed misery and loneliness have fought their way to the surface, and they won't be quieted any longer.

After about a minute or so, it descends into an actual, honest-to-god, completely unattractive sobbing fit, but Sakura can't bring herself to care any longer, and she doesn't even notice when the door opens again, and her drenched partner steps in, holding two small boxes of stir-fried noodles.

Itachi, however, takes the situation in at a glance; the sobbing, utterly wrecked Sakura on the floor, the wrapping and presents set carefully at her side, and the green turtleneck and flak vest that she is currently clutching in a death grip. After a moment, he does the only thing he could possibly do – promptly sets the boxes of food down on the desk, and spins around and leaves the room again, shutting the door behind him.

Sakura isn't sure how long how long she just cries uncontrollably, shaking with the force of it. It takes on a mildly cathartic quality after a while, and then, her sobs slowly begin to quiet a little, reducing somewhat in their sheer intensity. She tries to wipe the tears away from her cheeks with the back of her hand, even though she is still crying fairly hard, but this time, when Itachi enters the room again, she notices. Normally, she wouldn't ever give him a chance to see her looking so…emotionally weak, but right now, she is too drained to even care, and just continues to sniffle softly, turning away from his scrutiny.

Ignoring her attempts to ignore him, Itachi kneels in front of the girl, simply inspecting her closely. After a few moments, he reaches out, attempting to tug the clothing from Sakura's grip; she resists, but he is insistent, and she is forced to relinquish it. Now, she can't ignore him any longer, and she wipes a few more tears from the corner of her eyes and blinks at him through swollen eyes, curious. "What—"

Before she can complete the sentence, Itachi unceremoniously presses the box – _pink, _Sakura observes detachedly – into her hands. "Here."

Her hands fumble a little, but she undoes the top of it, looking down into it. For a few moments, she just stares at it, but then she looks up at him again, and Itachi is alarmed to see that Sakura's eyes are swimming anew with tears. "You bought me cake?" she sniffles – vanilla cheesecake, with strawberry syrup on top, her favorite – and she wonders how he knew.

Itachi attempts to edge away as discreetly as possible. "I—" he tries to justify it properly, but that proves to be rather difficult, with her looking at him with those liquid green eyes like that, and…

It isn't the wisest thing that she's ever done, by far, and probably could be chalked up to sheer emotional instability, but in the next moment, Sakura sets the cake aside and practically pounces forward, wrapping her arms around his neck, burying her face against his shoulder, and then she begins to cry again, in earnest.

Itachi freezes, and for one terrifying moment, he has no idea what he is supposed to do. Then, instinct kicks in, and he places his hands on her hips firmly, trying his best to extricate the two of them from this highly compromising position. He doesn't want to _hurt_ her, though, so he uses only a little of the considerable force that he is capable of – and in return, for every time he tries to get Sakura to let go of him, Sakura only starts crying a little bit harder and holds on tighter. In the end, in the interests of not compromising both of their safety, Itachi merely goes poker-still, hoping that his lack of response will discourage her from this highly disturbing activity, but that isn't the case, either. Judging his failure to struggle as tacit acceptance, Sakura merely presses herself even closer to him, so that there is no space between them at all. For better or worse, Itachi is the only person she has left, now, and tonight, she just needs a little bit of reassurance.

After Sakura turns her head a little, still sniffling somewhat, so that her lips accidentally press against the sensitive skin between his shoulder and neck, Itachi stiffens dramatically. Now feeling somewhat panicked, he deduces that maybe reciprocating her – attentions – will be the best way to get her to withdraw, and even though he doesn't feel very happy about it, Itachi places one hand tentatively on the small of her back, holding her close to him. He cannot ever remember comforting somebody else, or being the recipient of such tender attention. When he had been younger, and still suffering from the disease that had ultimately claimed his first life, though, his mother would often rub his back soothingly as he coughed, and although this is different in every way, he thinks that the same principle may still apply.

Even in her still somewhat less-than-coherent state, Sakura is surprised when she feels Itachi's hand touching her back lightly, tugging her closer. She hadn't expected him to reciprocate in any way, but then he starts to rub his thumb in slow circles against her lower back, and then Sakura loses all capacity for reasonable thought as the breath leaves her body in a shaky sigh. Itachi feels her relax against him, and, wondering if it's working, takes the other hand and settles it on her back as well, before lightly, tentatively stroking it along the length of her spine.

Sakura is still somewhat in shock that he is even doing this for her, but it's working – Itachi probably hadn't intended for it to have this kind of effect on her, but his touch is distracting her from even the need to vent her misery. She lets her head rest against his shoulder one more time, breathing in his scent of pine and spearmint and rain. She is vaguely conscious of more tears pricking at the corner of her eyes, and the prospect staying here and letting herself be comforted like this is tempting, but some lucid part of Sakura detachedly observes that if she allows _that_, the chances of a problem developing in the future will become highly likely, and she can't risk that.

It is difficult, but Sakura finally pulls away from Itachi. Looking him in the eyes after that is difficult, of course, but surprisingly, his dark charcoal-gray gaze holds nothing judgmental or even condescending. He is, as always, unreadable. As he looks her over, the faintest flicker of some unidentifiable emotion crosses his eyes, and before Sakura can even blink, the sleeve of his Akatsuki robe is pressed against her face. Her first instinct is to flinch away, but then she realizes that Itachi is just matter-of-factly mopping the remaining tears off her face, as if they offend him.

The uncharacteristic gentleness of the gesture, perversely enough, causes her eyes to burn again, and for a second, Sakura can _swear_ that Itachi flinches. With speed fast enough that she can barely follow it with her gaze, he presses the box of cake back into her grip. "Don't cry," he orders tersely. "Just…eat your cake."

Sakura blinks once, and then the sheer ridiculousness of this statement (and the fact that it's _Itachi_ saying that to her, of all people) sets in, and for the first time in what feels like hours, she starts to laugh, self-consciously brushing the last of her tears away.

-

They are quiet, more or less, for the rest of the night. They eat dinner, and Sakura tries her best to convince Itachi to have a bite of her large slice of cake, but he adamantly refuses to share a fork with her. _Figures that he would be a germophobe, _Sakura thinks humorously, as she finishes up the exquisite-tasting dessert.

A scalding hot shower completes her recovery, and by the time she pulls on Naruto's pajamas and settles into bed, Sakura can't help but feel a lot better – like she can breathe easily again. Itachi, meanwhile, sits next to her, reading out of his unmarked black book again, and Sakura just eyes him for a few moments, before deciding that nervousness never helped anybody.

When Sakura clears her throat softly, Itachi looks over at her; he had been immersed enough in his reading to not notice her emerging from the shower, but now, thankfully, she looks much better. "…Yes?" he inquires, a little cautiously.

For a few more moments, Sakura just looks at him with that unsettling emotion in her clear eyes, and before she can lose her nerve, she inches a little closer, before deliberately wrapping her arms around Itachi's shoulders and pressing a slow, lingering kiss to his cheek. "Thank you," she whispers, against his skin, before safely retreating to her side of the bed and lying down, so that her back is to him.

Itachi can't help but stare at her momentarily, one of his hands drifting to the place on his cheek where she had kissed, before he forces it back down to his side. He looks back to his book of poetry immediately afterward, but for the rest of the night, his attention is otherwise occupied.

* * *

_to be continued_

* * *

Longest chapter yet, and hopefully with more ItaSaku-ness for everybody's Valentine's Day. :) I really hope that you guys liked it – as always, any and all comments would be very much appreciated.

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone! Hopefully it's a sweet and fantastic day for all of you. :D


	9. Catalyst

_Thank you so much to everybody who was absolutely wonderful enough to review. :) I'm sorry to hear that so many people cried last chapter, though. =/ That was definitely not my intention._

_-_

_Chapter Nine: Catalyst_

_-_

"You know," Sakura says offhandedly, taking a sip from the dubious liquid inside her dilapidated paper cup. "I've got a lot of plans for what I want to do with the rest of my life."

Itachi takes a moment to glance up from the remnants of his meal, looking somewhat unsettled at the rather philosophical turn that this conversation is threatening to take. Accurately reading his facial expression, Sakura rolls her eyes expressively, before slamming the cup down on the dirt beneath her. "And they _don't_ include dying of starvation two weeks after my sixteenth birthday," she explains patiently.

Now that it becomes evident that there is indeed no danger of entering a philosophical conversation with this rather volatile kunoichi, Itachi sighs minutely. "Sakura, you most certainly are not starving to death," he counters evenly, before nodding to her empty paper plate and cup. "We are merely—"

"Itachi, this is the fourth day in a row that we've eaten one stick of dango each for breakfast and three tiny spoons of rice and some soy sauce for dinner!" Sakura explodes, picking up her paper plate and waving it at him for emphasis, before gesturing to the strangely-colored liquid inside her cup. "And…damn it, you can't even call this water! It tastes like fish!"

Itachi raises an eyebrow as impassively as ever, silently asking for her point, and Sakura sighs exaggeratedly. "We can't live like this anymore," she pouts, stretching her legs in front of her and glowering at her feet.

In response to this ultimatum, Itachi merely leans back against the tree, idly watching the moonlight reflect on the small stream that runs past their makeshift campsite. "Sakura, your melodrama is quite tiring."

This time, Sakura slowly crushes her paper cup as she glares at him pointedly.

There are a few moments of silence between them, before Itachi finally deigns to reply. "These annual dry spells are not uncommon, although they are usually only limited to certain regions – which may be the case in this situation."

Sakura rolls onto her back, staring up at the starry sky comtemplatively. "We haven't had a decent assignment for the past two weeks," she mumbles. "Does that mean we should…relocate?"

"On what scale?" Itachi responds, matching her question with one of his own.

Sakura sighs and twists her legs under her, pushing herself up into a sitting position as she meets his gaze. To her slight dismay, she notices that somehow, over dinner, she had positioned herself close enough to him so that they are less than a foot away – close enough for her to see even the slight shadows on his skin, cast by his long eyelashes. "You've got a _little _more experience with this than I do," she replies dryly, even as she looks away quickly, trying her best to recover from the momentary lapse of focus. "What would be best?"

A slight smirk tugs at the corner of Itachi's lips at the fact that she is actually soliciting his opinion. "Considering that we are near the northeast border of the Fire Country, I would suggest crossing into the Land of Lightning—" Before he can even finish the sentence, though, Sakura winces visibily, and Itachi inclines his head a fraction of an inch in acknowledgement of her reaction. "However, you are obviously not receptive to this idea."

It isn't a question, and Sakura sighs as she reaches over to her bag and tugging it to her, before flipping her book of contacts open absentmindedly. She hates to admit it, but she can see the wisdom in his idea…although no matter how irrational it is, she doesn't want to leave the Fire Country; it is the last vestige of home that she has left. After a couple of minutes of quiet searching, her finger finally comes to rest on the inscription of one particular town, which looks like it is the closest to their current location. Frowning thoughtfully, Sakura flips to the map and small directory in the back of the book, feeling Itachi's mildly querulous gaze on her.

"…There's a town," she says at last, "that looks about forty-five miles from here, to the south." There is a footnote near the town's name, and Sakura bends closer over the book, absentmindedly smoothing a lock of hair behind her ear as she struggles to read the tiny words written in the very faded ink.

After a few moments of watching her struggle, Itachi merely reaches out and confiscates the book from her lap matter-of-factly. To Sakura's mild astonishment, he gives the footnote one bare, cursory glance, before returning it to her. "It's a farming town," he says, by way of explanation. "Apparently famed for the size and quality of its markets; the cost of the merchandise is also said to be rather affordable."

Sakura blinks, not really absorbing the information. "How did you do that?"

This time, the look that Itachi sends her way definitely has an amused quality to it, and Sakura blushes hotly, wanting to preempt the '_It's called reading, Sakura'-_esquereply that is sure to follow. "I mean, your eyes," she tries to explain, gesturing vaguely at the dark forest that surrounds them; something that even somebody with the keenest vision would struggle to read in. "During the preliminary briefing for our mission to hunt you and," – Sakura stops abruptly at Sasuke's name, swallows over it, and continues on, looking fixedly down at her hands in a way that Itachi does not fail to notice – "…Kakashi-sensei told Tsunade-shishou and I that over the years, repeated usage of the Mangekyou had deterioriated your visibility so much that you were nearly blind…"

It is a legitimate question, and Itachi blinks; when his eyes open again, they have faded from crimson to gray, in an instinctual response born of the memories of his previous life. "I was," he acknowledges, looking up at the leafy canopy above them.

Sakura glances over at him again, understanding dawning in her eyes. "The resurrection technique?" she asks, barely managing to keep her curiosity under wraps. If it had been enough to not only bring him back to life, but also to permanently heal whatever long-term damage had been sustained to his body prior to his death – well, it would have to be an extraordinarily powerful technique, with capabilities beyond even what Chiyo's revival procedure had demonstrated. Itachi has never offered any detail about it, and Sakura has never asked, but she isn't _stupid_; she knows that the only people who could have wanted to bring him back were the Akatsuki leader and his partner. And she also knows that, in their hands, such a technique could be the worst sort of weapon.

Sakura can't help but shudder a little, as she thinks of Sasori, and Deidara, the destructive blonde artist. She remembers Hidan – Asuma's murderer (even months later, she can still recall what Team Ten had been like, afterward, and of course, poor Kurenai, and one of her hands unconsciously curls into a fist at the memory), and the other one, Kakuzu. The thought of all of them being resurrected at their full deadly strength, all of their monstrous capabilities fully restored, makes her head spin a little, and as if he can see the conclusions being drawn in her head, Itachi nods once. "Yes."

Now trying desperately to work her mind away from that train of thought, Sakura looks back down at her book hurriedly. "There's, um – that town, which is forty-five miles to the south, and…fifty miles to the north, there's also a large city, the last before we hit the border between Fire and Lighting." She glances back up at him thoughtfully, through lowered eyelashes, and even though Itachi's expression is neutral, Sakura can tell that they are both remembering the circumstances upon which they had met again.

For some reason, the thought makes her smile a little, although she quickly catches the involuntary physical reaction and steels herself back into her usual semblance of composure. "I was thinking," she declares, as she absentmindedly leans against the trunk of the tree, next to Itachi. "Tomorrow morning, you could head to the city and see if there are any potential assignments for us, while I can go to the town and get food and supplies with some of the last of our money. If you get an assignment, I'll meet you in the city with our stuff and we can just use it while we stay there. And, if you don't…well, we can take the supplies and head to Lightning, and this way, we'll be able to eat decent food – there aren't any restaraunts within miles of the border – until we can find a good place to stay over there."

Upon finishing this proposition, Sakura sits bolt upright, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. "It's an amazing idea, isn't it?"

In response, Itachi gives her an utterly deadpan look. "No. It most certainly is not."

Despite her best efforts, Sakura's jaw drops in utter indignation. "…What? It's perfectly logical!"

"It would be," Itachi comments impassively, resting the back of his head against the tree again. "If my partner were anybody but you."

Sakura doesn't even realize that her hand had moved until Itachi catches the punch – loaded with enough chakra to break the bone – easily, a few inches away from his jaw. She stares at it, utterly petrified with mortification, and cursing her Tsunade-inherited habit of acting first and thinking later, while simultaneously uttering all of the prayers she knows in the privacy of her own _stupid_ head and, and…

Itachi smirks slightly at the look of complete shock and horror on her face, as he draws his thumb slowly across the bridge at the top of her knuckles, and in a brief moment of delirium, Sakura actually thinks that her mind melts into a sorry puddle at the few moments of lingering contact. She can't quite read the expression in his eyes as he slowly eases her hand back onto the dirt floor between them, and Inner Sakura idly wonders if it has gotten hotter in the forest, or if that's just…her. Itachi. The two of them. Whatever.

By the time Sakura manages to recover herself somewhat, Itachi is already speaking, his voice as calm and smooth as always. "Do not misunderstand me, Sakura. Your plan is quite sound, and the only reason that I believe it would be inadvisable in our current circumstances is because you are one of the most singularly unlucky individuals I have ever come across."

"I am not!" Sakura protests immediately. "And there's no part of my plan that can go wrong, anyway!"

"Not on my end," Itachi counters, just as quickly.

"And why would anything on _my_ end go wrong?"

Itachi smirks again, letting his eyes flicker over her. It has been years since he has engaged in a trivial, argumentative exchange like this; even he needs some form of entertainment once in a while, and these little verbal sparring sessions do their part to relax him. "When you enter an equation, Sakura, anything can possibly go wrong in it, will."

Sakura just stares at him for a few long moments, trying to figure out whether he has just hurt her feelings or not. She ends up just waving her hand dismissively, before tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Maybe, but that's all in the past. This is going to be a better year – it _has_ to be."

Itachi redirects his gaze toward the river, sighing softly. The degree of the girl's blind optimism is not only irrational, but almost nauseating, as well, and he tells her so with his customary bluntness.

Sakura's eyes narrow for a fraction of a second, but in the next moment, the calculating look is gone, replaced by an expression of sugary sweetness. "Itachi, I don't know how to feel about the fact that you obviously spend so much time worrying about my safety—"

(And here, Itachi fixes her with a look of such patent incredulity that she nearly loses all capability to finish her sentence while maintaining a straight face.)

Sakura sternly orders herself _not _to laugh as she curls a few strands of hair around one of her fingers in her best practiced-innocent manner. "—And, of course, I think that may have some implications as to the nature of our relationship, which we should maybe talk about at a later date, just to make sure that we're on the same page…"

Itachi had looked like he was about to say something for about a fraction of a second, but now, he is just staring at her, quite clearly debating whether to snap her neck now just so that the sound can convince him that he isn't hallucinating this entire episode.

"—Actually, I think I'm somewhat flattered about the fact that I've managed to arouse your protective instincts," Sakura continues blithely, while Itachi pales somewhat, in a way that could be chalked up to a combination of sheer horror and revulsion at the prospect of even possessing such instincts, and especially in relation to _her_. "But I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself for about half a day or so…"

At this point, Sakura is completely ready to go off on any one of several various tangents about _feelings_ and their _relationship _and a variety of other touchy-feely subjects, all of which are guaranteed to make somebody as stoic and detached as Itachi very, _very_ uncomfortable. Luckily – because she doesn't think she can deliver all of her lines without gagging in the midst of them, among other reasons – Itachi cuts her off abruptly, looking about as ill as she has ever seen him. "Enough," he orders, the tension fairly emanating from him in waves. "Tomorrow morning, you may go on your…excursion, and I will proceed north, to the city."

Well, that's done it – Sakura knows that Itachi will be ten times more detached and cool for the next week, at least (just to assure himself that he really does possess no amount of personal caring or fondness for her, of course; _kami forbid _such a thing should ever happen), and she'll have difficulty getting more than six consecutive words out of him within the space of one day, but…it is worth it, after all. She smiles at him a little, offering the only apology for intentionally manipulating him that she possibly can, but he doesn't respond, instead choosing to unfasten his cloak, and offer half of it to her, as usual.

Sakura takes it without comment, and before long, they settle into an almost-comfortable silence. After the increased frequency of nights like this, she has become accustomed to easily leaning against trees and _not_ falling into puddles of mud – and, more importantly, tempering her impulses to curl up next to Itachi and fall asleep pressed against him, instead. Their sheer, constant physical proximity gives the deceptive illusion of intimacy, but aside from those few minutes on her birthday, when he had held her close and done his best to comfort her – well, the logical part of Sakura knows that there are certain lines in their relationship (_partnership, _she corrects hastily_) _that shouldn't be crossed, for both of their sakes.

That is the intelligent, rational kunoichi of the Leaf talking, though, and although Sakura hates to admit it, the part of her that is nothing more than a sixteen-year-old girl cannot be blind to Itachi. Metaphorically…or physically.

…_Definitely_ not physically.

Before her mind can do too much wandering down those dangerous paths, Sakura hastily closes her eyes and tilts her head back against the tree, doing her best to strip her mind of every extraneous thought and sensation, save for the light breeze against the trees, and the rush of the nearby river over the rocks.

-

Even though hunger and chronic exhaustion have been completely integrated into her life over the past few weeks, Sakura's body has by no means become accustomed to them. She is in a state of near-unconsciousness until early afternoon, at which point Itachi decides to wake her up by abruptly reclaiming his cloak. The sudden exposure of her almost-bare arms and legs to the chilly air garners an immediate physical reaction, and by the time Sakura wakes up fully, a few minutes later, she is dismayed to find that she is already shivering hard.

Evidently, Itachi forgets that he is scheduled to show nothing more than complete and total indifference to her for at least a week, because he takes a moment to look down and smirk slightly, as he fastens the Akatsuki cloak around himself once again. "Good morning."

Sakura thinks that she gives him a dirty glare and mutters something along the lines of _what's good about it?_, although she is still too tired to know for sure. In a marked contrast to her sleep-rumpled clothes, tangled hair, and bare feet (her knee-high boots lie, discarded, a few feet away from the stream), Itachi looks as perfectly groomed as usual, his hair even somewhat damp from what had presumably been an earlier bath in the pond a few miles away.

It's enough to make her scowl, really, and Sakura does just that as she pulls herself to her feet, wincing at her stiffened muscles and the countless kinks in her back and neck. Within a few minutes, she manages to stretch most of them out, and then limps over to her bag, collects it, and heads to the pond for a bath. It is a mere few miles away from their campsite, but thoroughly shielded by countless trees and various forms of other flora. Still, Sakura smirks a little as she unzips her red vest and then shrugs it off – it isn't as if she's out here with Naruto or Kiba or anything; it's _Itachi, _which means that she has absolutely nothing of that nature to worry about.

The water is absolutely still as she strips everything off and lowers herself into it, and much too cold, so Sakura doesn't take the time to luxuriate in it as she normally would, only lingering long enough to ensure that she is as clean and smells as strongly of fresh mountain strawberry as possible. Gratifyingly enough, Itachi gives her that familiar, slightly irritated look as she strolls back into their campsite, tousling her dripping hair with the hand that isn't clutching the bag. As she has done every day for the past two weeks, Sakura lowers herself to her knees in front of the stream and peers down into her slightly rippling reflection.

She reaches into her bag automatically, before gently withdrawing a square box, wrapped in a short length of flaming orange silk. Sakura's fingers are almost reverent as she slides the wrapping aside, opens the plain wooden box, and then plucks the black lacquered comb, embellished with two shimmering, delicate pink crystal cherry blossoms on top, out of it. She knows how impractical an ornament like this is, in her current situation – but along with the kimono that Ino had given to her, it is the only real _girl_ thing that she owns, now.

The morning after her sixteenth birthday, she had woken up to find the silk-wrapped box resting on the inn's nightstand – along with something that looked suspiciously like toad slime dripping off the aged wood of the small table, as well. There was a small note from Naruto pinned to the top, saying something along the lines of, '_sorry that it's probably late, but the dumbass toad got lost – I miss you more every day, Sakura-chan.' _There had been several other lines, all of them painstakingly crossed out, although to be fair – considering what had happened between them immediately before his departure, she can probably guess at their meaning.

Sakura smiles a little at the memory, her fingers brushing over the crystal sakura flowers. Focusing once again on her reflection, she secures the comb in the uppermost layer of her hair, twists, and secures the top half of her hair in a loose updo.

Now that her usual morning ritual is complete, Sakura stands once again, turning to her partner expectantly. For the briefest of moments, Itachi is distracted by the way the sun catches the crystal flowers in her hair, reflecting back in a million incandescent pinpricks of light, but then he turns his head slightly, chiding himself for noticing such inconsequential triviliaties. Rather unaware of his brief scrutiny, Sakura checks the zippers on her boots, before looking up at him again. "Do you want anything?" she asks innocuously.

Perhaps it is just the accumulating stress of he past few weeks, but uncharacteristically enough, it takes Itachi a second to ascertain her meaning, and another to think of an adequate reply. That is too long for Sakura, though, and she gives him a decidedly wicked look as she shoulders her bag. "Oh, don't worry – I'll make sure that I get your…coffee, right?"

This degree of deliberate provocation is enough for Itachi to regain his composure, and Sakura actually cringes when he fixes her with a glare that slowly bleeds from gray to crimson. "Just kidding!" she backtracks hurriedly, inching away from him. "Chai, blueberry, orange, pepperment, sweet – _tea_, of course!"

As usual, Itachi remains completely unaffected by even her most winning smile, and Sakura sighs deeply, abandoning all pretense. "I should meet you in the city by…sunset?" she half-asks, tilting her head to the side thoughtfully – forty-five miles to the market town, add in time there to purchase supplies, and then almost a hundred miles up to the city… yes, that sounds just about right.

Itachi just stares back at her with a somewhat inscrutable expression in his eyes. "If you don't?"

The question throws her for a loop, and Sakura blinks. "I will," she says dismissively. "Don't," – she pauses abruptly, in order to discard the word _worry_. "…Well, I'll be fine."

Walking away from him without some sort of proper farewell doesn't feel right, though, and because this isn't crossing boundaries at all, Sakura takes Itachi's hand in hers, intertwining their fingers for the most fleeting of seconds as she brushes past him, before moving deeper into the forest. The contact is so light and quick that he almost thinks that he has imagined it, and by the time Itachi glances around sharply, the pink-haired kunoichi has already vanished into the distance. The lingering, sweet – also overwhelming and migraine-inducing, he is quick to remind himself – scent of strawberry is the only thing that can indicate her former presence in the clearing, and he allows his gaze to flicker in the direction she had disappeared in, before he turns north again, ready to face the day.

-

Sakura spends most of the forty-five mile journey south determinedly trying not to think. For somebody of her nature, this is a lot harder than it sounds; especially as her mind, aided by the efforts of Inner Sakura, keeps insisting that she linger on the particularly troublesome topic that she is trying _so_ very hard to avoid. In the end, she ultimately falls back to a thorough mental review of every single medical technique she knows, and the purpose, results, and precise methods used to carry out the techniques in question.

It is deadeningly boring, yes, but the strategy succeeds in its objective, and within two hours, Sakura finds herself entering the borders of the town. As she has fallen into the habit of doing over the past months of being a missing-nin, she skulks around the edges of the crowds that are milling about, obviously heading to the market, looking around warily, before deciding to risk stepping into the fray. For such a small, nondescript town, it seems insanely crowded – the press of what feels like hundreds of people filling the too-small streets, pushing at her front and back and both sides, makes Sakura frown, even as she is effortlessly swept along by the crowd. She supposes that it is convenient, even though her feet already hurt from being stepped on, and she keeps cringing back at feeling the unfamiliar press of so many strangers against her. Still, she has no idea where the market would be, and all of these people seem to know where they are going. Then again, Sakura supposes that her perception of the size of the crowd could just be vaguely distorted, after so much time spent with just…Itachi.

Then, she takes another searching look at the crush of people around her, and to her surprise, the clientele mostly isn't composed of what she thought it would be. There are no little old ladies or young mothers and fathers holding children by the hand; nothing like what she normally sees in civilian towns like this one. Instead, Sakura sees a disproportionate amount of men, and glints of concealed metal, and her chakra immediately flares, sensing a sudden rush in other signatures. And _then_ she realizes just what the reason for this is – she isn't the only missing-nin or traveler or just any rogue element who has some edition of that book, or the map, or a directory.

This is slightly problematic, and Sakura wipes her suddenly damp palms against her skirt, all of her thoughts immediately going to the team of Root hunters. She wants nothing more than to think that it's highly unlikely; it would be the worst sort of coincidence, and besides, they are probably _far_ away. Because, out of all the cheap markets in which to refuel on supplies in the Fire Country, why would they turn up at _this_ one?

What are the chances?

Sakura glances around nervously, still, standing on her tiptoes and straining her chakra to see if it recognizes those three, familiar signatures. In the next moment, though, she feels a hand brush against the small of her back for a split second, before exerting a slightly uncomfortable pressure against the base of her spine. The touch sends a pulse of cold shivers through her muscles; it feels eerily reminiscent of the Root captain and the way he had touched her, during the last time that they had been in a situation of close combat, and—

A young civilian man with spiked, dark auburn hair gives her a slightly crooked smile as he passes – or, more accurately, is pushed in front of her by the movements of the crowd behind him. "Sorry, sweetheart; didn't mean to do that."

Sakura hates being called that, but she manages to nod a little shakily, even as she discreetly conceals the fist that had been ready to snap his neck, behind her back. "It's okay."

Still, it takes a conscious effort for her to calm the visible, electric charges of chakra that are sparking just a few centimeters beneath her skin, more than ready to be called forth to do battle. Her heart is still racing, though, and Sakura is so busy trying to regulate the erratic, too-fast rhythm, that she doesn't necessarily look where she is going for _one_ moment. The next thing she knows, she is pushed forward from somebody behind her, and Sakura bites her lip to stifle a yelp as she trips over something on the unpaved road beneath her feet and stumbles forward. Her hip makes painful contact with the edge of a makeshift wooden stall, which looks like it belongs to…a cabbage vendor?

Sakura swears out loud, rubbing her aching hipbone, and the cabbage vendor, a blonde who looks to be in his mid-twenties, looks her over appraisingly, before offering a cabbage for her inspection. "I don't see an awful lot of girls who throw themselves at my cabbages like that – so, for you, twenty percent off," he comments, with a small, lazy smile.

Sakura gives him a somewhat bewildered look, and the cabbage man grins in response. "Welcome to Shigeki Market, sweetheart."

Her heart rate is slowly beginning to calm, but that doesn't stop Sakura from giving him the tiniest of smirks as she leans forward to inspect the offered vegetable. "…You know, if you've got any hopes of selling me this cabbage, you _really_ shouldn't call me that."

-

For the next two or so hours, Sakura browses aimlessly through the extensive market, her initial tension more or less forgotten as she eagerly absorbs every little aspect of her surroundings. Like most girls, she enjoys all aspects of shopping – an activity that she hardly gets to perform anymore. This isn't like the more scintillating pursuit of browsing through clothing, jewelry, or, of course, shoes, but it's the next best thing. She isn't solitary by nature, and this new environment provides enough stimulation to make her happy.

It takes a great deal of searching, but she eventually manages to buy all of the tea her partner had mandated, as well as a large amount of basic noodles and chicken that can easily be heated up and made edible with the help of some water and any one of Itachi's milder fire techniques. She has a feeling that these will be a lifesaver if – _when _– they cross the border into Lightning, and while she's at it, Sakura also purchases a decent range of smaller snacks that will do well to stave off hunger as they travel, while still providing the requisite amount and perfect balance of protein and carbohydrates needed to maintain high chakra and energy levels.

(Well, that's her cover story, anyway, although Sakura dearly hopes that Itachi has no knowledge about the nutritional value offered by the large box of strawberry pocky that is currently hiding between the packets of noodles and the bags of dried fruit.)

The atmosphere lulls her into a state of relaxation, and as Sakura steps over a discarded box of melons lying in the middle of the street, she reaches behind her to rub a hand over the small of her back absentmindedly. There is a strange, dull throbbing that seems to be radiating from the base of her spine, through her entire back – except she hasn't been injured there in months, and this makes her frown. The pain has been there, ebbing and flowing like a slow tide, for the entirety of the past two hours. There is a possibility that somebody might have elbowed her there on accident while the crowd had been trying to fight its way into the market, although Sakura doesn't remember anything like that.

Out of sheer paranoia, she tries to focus her chakra again, probing the presences in the rest of the market. Strangely enough, it is a little more difficult then usual, although after a few moments, things fall into place as they should. Her readings of the foreign chakra signatures seem vaguer, but that could just be because she hasn't has a chance to recuperate in the past two weeks or so.

Relaxing fractionally, Sakura re-adjusts the two heavy bags slung over her right shoulder, taking her time as she works her way through the crowd, heading for the town's border again. The position of the sun says that it is almost four in the evening, and if she travels at her usual quick pace, she will be able to meet Itachi at the city by seven. Lost in her thoughts, she drifts past the crowds of people, now hardly thinking twice about the bodies that press against her.

By the time that Sakura makes her way back out to the forest proper, it has gotten markedly windier, enough to rattle the branches mercilessly, shaking new leaves off their tentative perches, and she grits her teeth against it – isn't it a bit too late for spring storms, anyway? Out of instinct, she directs a look skyward, catching a glimpse of the gathering clouds above the towering emerald green canopy of trees. They are a dark, deep gray, just like—

The wind howls again, drowning out her thoughts, and this time, Sakura freezes – even though it's not because of the cold. Without thinking twice about it, she lets the heavy bags of supplies slide off her shoulder, before slowly turning in a circle around the clearing, her sharp eyes cataloguing every shadow and every pulse of foreign chakra. Except…there isn't any. She is completely alone.

"Did you miss me?"

Sakura stills, feeling every muscle and bone, every little nerve ending, in her body go completely rigid. There it is, again – those silky words, so soft and elusive that they seem to be carried by the wind.

"Genjutsu Kai."

Her voice is calm, steely with a hint of absolute certainty behind the articulation of the technique. She has always been able to see right through any genjutsu, but she admittedly has less practice with auditory-based illusions. Still, though, there is nothing, not even the discreet cloud of smoke that usually comes with the cancellation of a genjustsu, the dispellation of a shadow clone, or the completion of a replacement technique.

The pain, when it comes, is sudden and violent enough to almost make Sakura's knees buckle. It feels like an icy knife has been stabbed through the length of her spine, and she staggers forward, her hands going to her back again, already coated with a layer of mint-green healing chakra. Her sharp mind is whirring frantically, despite the intense discomfort – this isn't right, none of it; not this kind of inexplicable, crippling pain, and most definitely not that eerie whispering in the wind.

She presses her hands into the base of her spine, ignoring the blinding pulses of pain, and desperately needing to fix herself as fast as possible and then get the _hell_ out of here. One moment passes, then two, and then three…and Sakura swallows over her suddenly dry throat, because that's all that she normally needs. But there is no feeling, no sensation of being restored – her chakra is _there_, yes, and she still has control of it, but it is missing its potency and power.

Now fighting the urge to panic, she pulls her hands back in front of her, staring at her open palms disbelievingly. Everything looks right, but it _just won't work_. Tsunade-shishou had never mentioned this as one of the side effects of overwork and intense stress, but of all the times…

The wind echoes through the deserted forest once again, and Sakura closes her eyes against the particles of dust stirred up, not needing anything to disrupt her focus right now as she tries her hardest to right whatever is wrong, because the hairs on the back of her neck are standing up, and she doesn't think she wants to know why; she only wants to be as far away from here as humanly possible.

Sakura opens her eyes slowly.

For a moment, irrational as it is, she thinks the world stands still. It is as if everything stops being and everything fades out of focus. It is supposedly medically improbable, but her heart actually stops beating for a good few moments, before starting up again at an impossibly fast rate.

The Root captain smirks a little, before reaching out and drawing one slender, black-gloved finger down her cheek gently, from the bottom of her wide, wide eyes to the very end of her jaw, his dark brown gaze very obviously enjoying the mingled shock and fear in hers. "You never answered my question, Sakura," he murmurs softly.

This is the fastest that she has ever moved in her life; even faster than when she had been fighting Sasori in what feels like a lifetime ago. Her fist connects with his jaw, knocking him back a few paces, but there is no sickening crunch, no one-hundred-and-ninety degree twist of the head, even though there had been more than enough chakra in the blow to easily break his neck in three different places. Sakura just stares, horrified – this has never happened to her before. Ever. Can chakra do that? Can it just decide to stop working for somebody? It is one of the million and one questions that she wishes she had thought to ask Tsunade-shishou, before…

The Root captain straightens his neck, rubbing at the jaw a little ruefully – even without the strength that she had inherited from her teacher, the girl still knows how to throw a punch. Which won't save her, in any case.

"Rather disappointing," he comments offhandedly, and even though she refuses to let her emotions be manipulated for his amusement, Sakura cannot hide the fleeting, knee-weakening pulse of terror that she knows flickers through her face. Predictably enough, he catches sight of it, tilting his head in a clinical inspection of the frightened kunoichi in front of him. "Shall I show you how it's done?"

Sakura moves before the sentence even registers, settling into a defensive evasion born of sheer instinct, but the next thing she knows, she is several feet away from where she had been, lying half on her side, half on her front. The dirt is cold and hard against her body, her skin already beginning to bruise where it had hit and she had skidded against the floor, and there is a splitting, disorienting pain in her head – along with a chilling numbness against the entire length of her right cheek. From what she can see through her blurred vision as she pulls herself up again, she is alone, but then the pain in her cheek degenerates into something white-hot and searing, and Sakura lifts a shaky hand to touch the intensely sensitized skin. He had backhanded her, and it _hurts_, but right now, she has a million problems that are all much more serious.

She spins to face him, and he moves out of range of her killer strike with speed too fast to comprehend. "Tsk, Sakura," he chides, and Sakura notices that he has removed his mask, for some reason – he is young, with dark brown hair tied into a shoulder-length ponytail, eyes of the same color, and a classically handsome face that she wants nothing more than to rip apart with her bare hands. "You seem to have lost your touch."

Kakashi-sensei had always told them that it was essential to remain utterly composed in battle, but now, Sakura snarls in a way that is almost feral, lunging forward even faster than she had before. Her punch makes contact with his ribs, this time, but they _don't break_, and from the way that he is smirking at her, she can tell that he had allowed her to land the hit, only so that she could see the relative lack of impact it has on him.

They do this for another few minutes, Sakura's fists and feet, alternately, making contact with his ribs and neck and jaw and heart. No matter how much she focuses and harnesses her chakra, though, it doesn't work, and the stress and confusion of it is making her shoulders shake. She has no chance of trying to escape, and she has already tried to perform the shadow clone, replacement, and transportation techniques, only to find that they don't work, either.

"What did you do to me?" Sakura gasps, at last, as she evades one of his strikes through a rapidly executed sideways twist, and throws a well-aimed knifehand to his sternocleidomastoid, because that would be enough to tear the muscle at the side of his neck even without chakra…

The captain dodges the strike quickly, and actually gives her one of those detached smiles that only the emotionally removed members of Root can master. "The question is not what I _did_ to you, Sakura," he corrects casually. "But what I _intend_ to do to you."

This sickening statement gives Sakura a moment's pause as she stumbles over an exposed tree root, and that split second is all that it takes for him to reach out, locking an iron grip around her wrists. He forces her backward, and then Sakura's back collides roughly enough with the bark of a nearby tree to drive all the breath from her body as she coughs, fine purple stars exploding across the inside of her eyelids. Still, her first instinct is to struggle against the hands that hold her so very hard, and the Root captain scowls his displeasure as he tightens his grip around her wrists. "Don't make things even more unpleasant for yourself," he warns.

Even restrained as she is, Sakura twists against him, trying her best to bite, but then, she cannot attempt to conceal her gasp of pain as he slams her already-bruised wrists against the rough bark painfully. Distantly, she remembers classes taken as a genin, about what to do if she ever found herself in a situation like this – but blind instinct alone orders her to fight, and she struggles even harder, hating the way she is absolutely powerless to fight him off. This isn't a chakra-sealing jutsu, but a much subtler and more powerful technique, designed to devour the inherent potency in one's chakra, rendering it utterly useless for hours – and she doesn't know how to shake it off.

The Root captain seems content to just press himself against her tightly, observing the myriad of emotions – fear, panic, desperation, barely concealed rage – that are playing across her face, but when he starts to rub his thumbs in slow circles on the sensitive skin inside her wrists, scraping his nails against the vulnerable veins, Sakura snaps, cringing away from the chilling contact. "Don't touch me!"

Her voice is too tight, stretched thin with strain and threatening to snap, and the captain raises an eyebrow a fraction of an inch, picking up on every little nuance of it that he can. "Why don't you just scream if you want to, Sakura?" he asks almost gently, while moving even closer, suffocating her aching ribs and her chest with the length of his leanly muscled body, and pressing his hips against hers in a way that makes her _want _to scream, or crawl under the covers of _her _bed, at home in Konoha, and never come out.

As if reading her mind, he smirks a little, and presses his lips into her tangled hair, feeling her desperate attempts not to tremble. "Nobody's going to hear you, after all."

In immediate conjuction with the words, he rakes his fingernails into the tender skin of her inner wrists, and Sakura bites her lip so that she doesn't whimper, even as she feels her skin tear. A thin trickle of blood works its way free of the cuts, dripping slowly down her arm, and this time, Sakura really does lose it. The captain is even taller than Itachi, so that her face is pressed into the hollow between his collarbone as he keeps tightening his grip against her wrists, grinding the delicate tendons, muscles and bones together and creating a deep, aching pressure inside them. At this precise second, Sakura knows that he is going to rape her and then kill her if she doesn't get it together somehow, _anyhow_, and find a way to fight back.

It feels like her wristbones are about to break, and this is distracting, yes, but not enough to keep her from sighting a small window of opportunity. As unbelievable as it sounds, she will be able to fight him better if her back is to him, instead, so—

She is panting hard, but Sakura takes the next moment to gather her composure, before stretching up as much and as fast as she possibly can and deliberately biting him on the collarbone. It isn't something she has ever done before, and part of her is flinching at it, but she forces herself to do it as hard as she can, shuddering as she feels his skin break beneath her teeth.

The captain swears violently, the fact that he had pressed them together as close as physically possible now seeming like a worse idea than it had at the beginning. His grip on her loosens for a moment, in response to the pain, and Sakura pulls back as fast as she can, wiping the blood away from her lips disgustedly, before slamming one fist into his lower stomach. "You filthy, _disgusting_—"

He doubles over, but before she can follow through with another strike, he grabs her upper arm hard, twisting her around and slamming her front against the tree, this time. Sakura had been expecting the impact, but that doesn't stop her from gasping again, as her already-bruised right cheek makes contact with the rough bark, and she winces hard as she feels the skin split. Absently, she feels something fall from her hair – the beautiful comb Naruto had given her has been dislodged out of the pretty twist she had put it in, and irrationally, Sakura prays that neither of them will step on the delicate ornament during this struggle.

The captain's body is pressed against her again, immobilizingly, and then one of his hands buries itself into the back of her hair, holding and pulling it back so hard that stinging tears come to her eyes. "Damn it, girl," he says hoarsely, and Sakura knows that all the hits she had landed on him earlier – even uninfluenced by chakra – are beginning to take their toll on his body. "Are you going to be difficult?"

He is holding her wrists behind her back with the hand that isn't buried in her hair, but in one swift movement, Sakura lifts her foot and grinds her heel into the soft spot between his ankle and the front of his foot. She is rewarded by a hiss of pain and his grip slackens again, and in that split second of freedom, she elbows backwards as hard as she can, and this time, the captain is the one who gasps as her elbow makes contact with his already-bruised ribs. "Damn straight," she hisses angrily, trying to twist around and fully extricate herself.

Too late, she realizes that one of his hands is still in her hair, and she feels the impact of this mistake a moment later, as he tightens his grip in her hair and pushes her head forward with dizzying speed. The impact of her forehead and hairline against the tree is crushing, and all of Sakura's muscles go limp as she loses consciousness for a second, slumping against the tree helplessly. The captain collapses on top of her, pinning her so hard that she can barely breathe, and even the sound of his harsh, almost equally labored breathing does nothing to dull the pain that she feels all over.

She is gasping for breath so hard that she almost doesn't hear his sudden, quiet laugh. He slips a hand up the back of her vest, so that she feels the cold material of his gloves and his long fingers brush against the bare skin of her lower back teasingly. Sakura stiffens all over, her muscles going completely rigid, and she can feel him smirk against her hair. "Kami, I'm going to enjoy breaking you," he murmurs, sounding entirely serious.

Her lips are torn from where they had made contact with the bark, but Sakura doesn't think that she could talk right now, even if she were capable of it. Her limbs are too numb to struggle as the captain spins her around again, so that her spine fairly rattles as she is pushed hard against the tree. The futility of her chakra and repeated physical abuse are making it too difficult for her to even manage standing up straight, and the repeated head trauma is starting to blur her vision.

And then, vision no longer becomes an issue, because she can't see anything except someone else's skin too close to hers. It takes her a second to realize what he has just done, and even then, it is only because of the crushing, bruising impact of his lips against hers.

It isn't her first kiss by any means – definitely not. But is far by the most different, because this has none of the shy teenage awkwardness, no innocently curious touches, and most definitely not any measure of that deliciously dizzying mixture of tender affection and tentative desire. This is harsh and cruel, too dominating and power-hungry and intentionally humiliating, and it hurts in every possible way, including the rapidly forming bruises on her lips.

Sakura closes her eyes and grits her teeth, thinking desperately about anything and everything but this. She thinks about human anatomy, and ways to cause somebody incredible pain even without using chakra or…this.

She knows what she has to do, but waiting for the right moment is an agonizing process. She lets herself go bonelessly limp against the tree, supported only by the Root captain's grip, and thankfully, he believes that she has just chosen to surrender. He trails searching hands down the length of her traumatized spine, following this with similarly hard, bruising kisses down the length of her neck, feeling her pulse jump and speed underneath his lips, and then re-traces the same path upward, until the skin there feels as if it has been rubbed raw. Sakura still flinches when he forces himself on her bruised lips all over again, and…

In a moment of deliberate calculation, Sakura allows her knees to weaken and buckle, and with a murmured curse at having his pursuit interrupted like this, the captain quickly pulls her back to her feet. This works well, yes, but Sakura screws her eyes shut even more tightly, praying frantically that he is distracted enough to take her physically weakened and near-unconscious state at face value.

He is, enough to pull her arms around his shoulders in order to prevent such future distractions as he presses into her again. Except that this time, his left hand tangles in her hair viciously, pulling her head back in order to allow him better access to her mouth and neck, as his right slips under her vest again, lingering at the small of her back, and in that second, Sakura knows that this is her time to strike.

The jabs that she delivers to the pressure point at the crook between the back of his neck and shoulder, and to the cluster of nerves at the base of his neck, are both as quick and vicious as she can posibly make them, and just like that, he is on the floor of the forest, dragging her down with him. The strikes had been enough to mostly immobilize him, rendering him no longer a threat…but this is no longer an issue.

The Root captain is verging on unconsciousness, and Sakura is hurting all over, shaking from fear and the residual trauma, physical and emotional, but still, instead of running, she straddles his hips a little flinchingly, pressing firm hands into his chest to keep him on the floor, just in case. A momentary check of her chakra makes it clear that the effects of whatever chakra-paralyzing jutsu he had used on her are just beginning to recede slowly, and Sakura tests this analysis by drawing one chakra-covered hand back and slamming it back into the ribs that she so thoroughly bruised earlier.

This time, there is a satisfying, bone-chilling, set of cracks that reverberate through the clearing. The sound would have made her wince in any other context, but now, she thinks that she smiles.

"This probably isn't the kind of fun you had envisioned, hmm?" Sakura asks the unresponsive man conversationally, even though her words are ragged, as she gasps for breath. "…Or maybe you thought the roles would be reversed, after you…finished what you intended to do to me."

She is pushing her recovering chakra too hard, but this time, she breaks the rest of his ribs, angling the hit so that the bone fragments pierce the lungs.

The captain's eyelashes are fluttering as he looks up at her disbelievingly, and Sakura smirks as she leans forward, closing her fingers around his throat. They are close enough to kiss, her tangled pink locks fluttering forward and shielding them from the rest of the forest. "Why don't you just scream if you want to?" she echoes mockingly, in a voice that she almost doesn't recognize as her own, while she tightens her grip around his neck. "Nobody's going to hear you, after all."

He is holding on too tightly to life, struggling against her, and Sakura makes the mistake of forcing more chakra to her fingertips, trying to finish what she had started, to hurt him like he was going to hurt her—

But just like that, her strained chakra rebels against this latest unreasonable command, and everything seems to catch up to her in that one moment. The searing pain in her face, where she had been slapped and thrown against the tree; the deep ache in every muscle, tendon, and bone in her wrists, the fact that her spine feels like it's bruised from top to bottom, the raw scratches on the insides of her wrists, her aching ribs and bruised, bleeding lips and neck…

Sakura doesn't even realize when it is that she slides off him, only that in the next moment, she is sitting on the dirt instead, her legs folded under her as she braces herself upright with her arms, still fighting to regulate her heart rate.

It still hasn't rained, but she hears thunder in the distance. The forest is made dark by the gathering clouds, and she can smell the moisture lingering within the atmosphere.

Sakura watches the blood bubble at the corners of the Root captain's mouth, and waits.

-

_One Hour Later_

-

The wind gusts again, bringing with it a discreet gray swirl of ash, and as always, Itachi assesses the situation at a glance, from the shadows of a nearby tree. She had been an hour late, and…well, somehow, he had known that this would be the reason why.

Sakura's back is to him, but he focuses on her opponent – a tall, dark-haired ANBU Root captain who looks like he can barely stand. He has impressive bruises ranging along the line of his jaw, but more importantly, he is clutching a hand to his ribs, some of which appear to jut out at odd angles against his black flak vest. His broad shoulders are rising and falling in a slow, labored fashion, and Itachi raises an eyebrow impassively, noting the thin trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth. Broken ribs and a puntured lung, evidently. Meanwhile, Sakura moves toward him with a tentativeness that Itachi can't quite understand, however; normally, in combat, she is as lethally fast as she is powerful.

Unaware as to her observer, Sakura fixes a glare on the Root captain, once again relishing the tingle of the fully capable chakra sparking along her still-sore limbs. "See?" she says mockingly, slowly curling one hand into a deliberate fist and imagining the sound his chest will make as she punches a hole right through it. "_This_ is how we should have done it the first time."

_The first time?_

The captain doesn't respond to the provocation, as befitting all elite shinobi, but then Itachi notices that Sakura has begun circling around him, looking for the most advantageous position from which to attack, in a way that is more deliberately predatory than anything he has ever seen from her before.

She unconsciously angles herself in a way that gives him a chance to eye her silhouette for the first time, and at first glance, Itachi grudgingly admits that she appears to have accounted for herself well – she is, after all, only a chunin, and facing an ANBU Captain in combat and coming out only looking rather shaken is a testament to her skills.

Then, however, Sakura steps to the side a few paces, so that she is at the captain's side, directly in front of Itachi…and his eyes narrow slowly as he scrutinizes the subtleties of her appearance further – namely, the dawning purple marks that are curling around her body like shadows…

After a moment, he attempts to tell himself that the bruises on her wrists, across one side of her face, and the various hand-shaped ones on her arms could have been sustained somehow in regular physical combat – but the ones trailing up the length of her neck and culminating on her mouth tell a very different story, and for a split second, Itachi involuntarily envisions the circumstances in which such injuries, in conjunction with the other ones on her person, could have been sustained.

He isn't even fully conscious of invoking the action, but in the next moment, Itachi's eyes begin to slowly bleed from gray to crimson.

-

Sakura is trying to fight him, but he keeps stepping away from her.

It doesn't appear to be any sort of defensive action, and honestly, it's making her feel even angrier – which is really saying something.

One second, the two of them had faced off, even though the captain is still suffering from the injuries that she had inflicted on him. And Sakura is more than ready to finish this, and from the grim look in his eyes, she knows that he will still be able to put up a formidable fight. But now, he is just staring blankly at some fixed point behind her and above her head somewhere, and for a moment, Sakura wonders if she had done a bad job of healing him just enough so that he could stand and fight her.

Her movements now taking on a more inquisitive quality, Sakura steps forward again – and, predictably enough, he steps back, the same blank gaze plastered onto his face, while she notices that his hand has fallen from his ribs and he is making no move to return it. This kind of utterly removed detachment is somehow familiar, and she takes an unwilling, but closer look at the man who had tried to victimize her, absorbing every nuance of his appearance until his strange behavior starts to make sense. The detached gaze, the mechanical movements, that blankly horrified look on his face—

He's under some kind of genjutsu, and Sakura steps back subconsciously; from everything that she sees, she is willing to bet that it is a _very_ unpleasant one.

Then, something else strikes her, and she spins around, alarmed – who would have put him under a genjutsu? There isn't anybody else in the clearing but her, and she has never unconsciously turned an illusionary technique on somebody, even in a volatile emotional state.

The Root captain makes some kind of horrible, strangled choking sound, and Sakura turns back to him fast. She stares at the strange phenomenon out of a sort of fascinated transfixion, the issue of who had cast the genjutsu fading into the background once again – she has never seen anything like this before, and she takes one step back out of sheer instinct.

True enough, in the next moment, an involuntary shiver runs down the length of Sakura's spine; the captain's eyes, a deep shade of brown, have darkened completely to black. The fearful expression on her face soon melts into one of confusion, though, as she sees the captain unsheath the katana that had been strapped across his back, with those oddly jerky, stiff movements, almost as if he is being controlled by a puppet string. He awkwardly turns the massive sword inwards, his eyes still bearing that strange, shadowed cast—

Sakura looks away at the last possible moment, as she hears the sickening sound of metal stabbing through unprotected flesh and organs. She is vaguely conscious of feeling nauseous, all of a sudden, and before she realizes what has happened, she is on her knees, her shoulders heaving as she wraps her arms around her chest. There is nothing to throw up, though, and she simply shakes like a leaf, desperately looking away from the horrible gore that has spilled over the forest floor.

Itachi takes his time stepping out from the shadows, walking over to the other side of the clearing, and then he picks up the dropped bags of supplies first, before retrieving Sakura's pretty comb – rather dusty, but uninjured. He makes his way over to the trembling girl and looks down at her almost uncertainly. She hasn't noticed him yet; her eyes are shut tightly as she inhales and exhales shakily. He is careful of the marks on her arms as he places his hands on her elbows lightly, before easing her to her feet, and settling her against the nearest tree.

She is in shock; that much is evident as her eyes open, and for a moment, they are a little duller than usual, and then a glimmer of recognition is finally visible in her gaze. "What – _you_ did that?" she asks disbelievingly.

Itachi ignores the question – of course, she is normally the medic in their little team, but this time, he gives her a clinical examination, quickly and efficiently scanning for any injuries that may go deeper than the physical remnants left all over her skin. Despite this, he is unsure of what to ask or say in this situation, if anything, and Sakura flinches away from his searching crimson gaze. "I had it under control!" she snaps, obviously upset, and looking away from him, while feeling the injured skin of her face growing hot. "I was going to take care of it myself – I didn't _need_ you to finish it for me, damn it!"

He just watches her evenly, waiting for her fit of temper to blow itself out, and Sakura wraps her arms around herself again, meeting his gaze angrily. "I fought him off by myself," she says coldly. "He was mine to kill."

"You would have regretted it."

It is a simple statement, but Sakura bristles at the implications nevertheless. "I don't need you to protect me," she hisses. "From _anything._"

After a moment, Itachi finds that he can say nothing to this, and already exhausted by the few moments of heated interaction, Sakura leans back against the tree and closes her eyes against her splitting headache, turning away from him again.

Two weeks of observation has allowed him to memorize the simplicity of this movement, but still, Sakura's eyes snap wide open with shock as she feels Itachi's long fingers twine through her hair for the briefest of moments – it feels so different from the rough handling of the deceased Root captain – and then the top half of her hair is twisted up off her neck. A familiar, comforting weight has taken its place there once again, and Sakura lifts her hand, brushing her fingers against the intact crystal cherry blossoms of the comb. When she turns back to him, she tries to smile, but the movement pulls at the bruising on the sensitive skin of her lips, and she ends up wincing instead.

Itachi is careful to keep his face as expressionless as always, even as he re-shoulders their bags of supplies, before reaching out and taking one of Sakura's hands in his own, lightly pulling her closer. The next thing she knows, she is dizzy again, except now, she is standing in a small, starkly white hotel room. Outside, there is the dull cascade of rain, punctuated by the customary sounds of a city – all of which sound almost unnaturally loud, after so many nights spent sleeping in forests. Absentmindedly, Sakura realizes that her fingers are still unnecessarily intertwined with Itachi's, and she pulls away, drifting toward the bathroom as if on autopilot. With every minute that passes, it feels like a new set of aches and pains are realizing themselves, and right now, she needs nothing more than a hot shower and several shots of healing chakra to ease the traumatized muscles and bones.

After Sakura undresses fully, she is unlucky enough to catch a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror, under the harsh light; she has to turn away immediately, fighting yet another wave of futile revulsion at the harsh, abstract patterns of mottled purple bruising that is making itself visible throughout her entire body. Thankfully, her chakra has returned to normal, and she heals all of the marks and trauma under the scalding flow of the hot shower.

She isn't quite sure how she makes it through that half hour, before finally toweling herself off and putting on Naruto's pajamas – the ramen-scented orange monstrosity has never felt so welcome against her skin. Eventually, Sakura drags herself to the bed, flinging herself down on it, next to Itachi; she lies on her stomach, her face pressed into the pillows, because her back still hurts too much. The covers feel far too much like synthetic polyster, when what she wants most is the quilt her mother had given her for her twelfth birthday, left in Konoha under Ino's care, and out of the corner of her somewhat-blurred gaze, Sakura notices Itachi attempting to relocate himself to the floor.

Distantly, some part of her appreciates his sensitivity, but the predominant part of Sakura ends up making an indistinct mumble in the back of her throat. "No."

Itachi stills abruptly. "…Pardon?"

"Stay," Sakura mumbles, pressing her face closer into the pillow. She would like something soft and soothing more than she wants to admit, wants nothing more than her mother or Tsunade-shishou or Ino to stroke her hair back from her forehead with cool, gentle fingers. Expecting Itachi to do something like that is actually a sentiment worthy of hysterical laughter, but even his presence two feet away from her is vaguely reassuring – even though she will definitely regret that thought in the morning.

Itachi raises an eyebrow, and he has to bite back a scathing comment about the fact that he is most certainly not a dog and therefore will not be commanded like one. Still, only because he is exhausted after such a long day, he remains there – for a few more minutes, at least. At the end of this period, he finally allows his glance to drift back to Sakura, only to find that she is sound asleep, her damp hair cascading over her face.

The day's events have caused too many problems to even comprehend, and Itachi stares unseeingly at the wall in front of them, trying to figure out where they will go from here.

-

_The Next Morning_

-

"Are you suicidal?"

The question is bluntly phrased, by Itachi's standards, and Sakura actually fights the urge to laugh, as she gathers her bag in her arms. "No," she replies evenly. "You should know that."

She tries to make her way past him, to the bathroom, but he blocks her way effortlessly. His face is carefully neutral, but she can fairly sense the tension that is emanating off him in waves. "After what happened yesterday—"

Sakura flinches at the memory, something that she thinks that she will be doing for a long time to come, but she still continues on doggedly. "It's _because _of what happened yesterday! Look, you were right; we're going to have to leave the Fire Country as soon as possible, because after – I mean, I'm sure the rest of the squad found…him…this morning, so they're only going to redouble their efforts to find me. But once I leave, I don't know when I'm _ever_ going to be able to come back." She glares at him now, meeting his gaze defiantly. "Damn it, Itachi, I don't even know if you _understand_ this, but they're my…everything. I need to see them one last time. After this, I won't be able to…" Her eyes go suspiciously bright, and she shakes her hair back, looking down at the floor.

Itachi regards her tersely, unaffected by the show of emotion. "I doubt your friends would be pleased at the thought of your blatantly compromising your own safety in this idiotic manner."

"Don't call me an idiot," Sakura snaps, her eyes blazing. "Inoichi told me what I need to do if I ever want to get back in, for whatever reason. I've thought this through for the past seven, eight months; I know what I'm doing." She gestures to herself angrily. "I was looking through my scrolls earlier this morning, and I remembered a technique Shizune taught me a while ago – it's like a henge that can't be dispelled, unless _I_ do it. That's a flawless disguise, and I have new clothes and everything. I can completely conceal my chakra signature without a problem…"

Itachi merely watches her for a few more moments. As admittedly tempting – and very possible – as it is, he knows that he cannot restrain her in any way. She is a determined, stubborn, stupid, _breakable _(if last night had not taught her a lesson regarding her own vulnerabilities, he does not know what will) scrap of a girl, and damn it, it is not _his_ place to stop her from intentionally, stupidly putting her own life in danger like this.

"Very well," Itachi bites out, turning away from her in a swirl of black and red clouds, before stalking away, toward the door.

Sakura watches him go for a few moments, before some of the anger on her face melts away visibly. Before she realizes what she is doing, she is standing in front of Itachi, somewhat awkwardly holding both of his hands in hers. He stiffens at the contact, before trying to pull away, but Sakura only holds on tighter. "I'll be all right," she tries to assure him, and her gaze is as earnest as humanly possible. "I promise."

Itachi attempts to reclaim his hands again, averting his eyes from her. "I do not—"

Impulsively, Sakura releases him for a moment, before stretching up and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, ignoring the way he abruptly tenses at this escalation of contact. "I'll be back in two nights, at most," she tells him, trying to keep her voice calm.

Itachi's arms remain motionless at his sides, but he looks down at her anyway. "If you aren't?"

Sakura gives him a small, slightly strained smile. "Then I probably won't be."

Before he can even think of some way to respond to this, Sakura presses a quick kiss to his cheek, and then she is on the other side of the room once more, vanishing into the sunlit bathroom and shutting the door with a definitive _click_ behind her. She leans against it, catching her breath and running her hands through her hair, somewhat unable to believe her own daring – in more aspects than one.

Forcing the matter out of her head, Sakura quickly strips out of her customary clothing, folding it neatly and setting it on the bathroom sink. She had tried to make the disguise as different from anything that she would normally wear, which is why she finds herself tugging on a simple, form-fitting matte black t-shirt and a pale sand-colored miniskirt. Leaving her boots and gloves behind is the hardest, but she has no choice; they are the most distinctive parts of her usual outfit. Instead, she just straps on a pair of basic, low-heeled sandals, and leaves her hands bare, grimacing slightly at the thought.

The next step will be considerably more difficult, though, and Sakura faces her reflection in the mirror, taking a few deep, calming breaths. Once she is sure that her chakra is completely centered, she closes her eyes and concentrates hard on the technique that she is about to perform. Her movements are slow and precise as she executes the ten hand seals that she had memorized from that forgotten scroll at the bottom of her bag, and Sakura can't help but let out a sigh of relief as she feels the tingle of her own chakra concentrating in an overwhelming mass around her hair and underneath her eyelids, before fading into complete invisibility and indetectability.

This does't prepare her for the shock that she gets when she opens her eyes and catches sight of the girl in the mirror, though. Sakura had been trying to go for the dark brown hair and eyes that Itachi had given her, the last time she had undergone a henge transformation – but evidently, something about that command had gone wrong, because now she looks like (there's no other way to put it), a sixteen-year-old female version of Itachi.

She twists around, staring at herself in fascination – her body structure has remained unchanged, and hair's length and style is the same, falling down and resting smoothly a little past her shoulders, parts of it framing her face and falling into her eyes in a playfully flirtatious fashion – but now, it's a shade of the darkest black, just like his. This has a striking effect on her appearance, yeah, but the part that thoroughly captures Sakura's attention is her new eyes. They are the same charcoal-gray, the color of dark, gathering stormclouds, and…oh, this is _weird._

She looks like she could be Itachi's younger sister; Sasuke's fraternal twin. Coupled with her black t-shirt, she would fit right in with Fugaku and Mikoto in that picture that she had found in the file regarding the Uchiha massacre, standing right in front of them, between Sasuke and Itachi.

The thought – and her appearance – sends shivers down her spine that she can't quite understand. Sakura hastily closes her eyes and concentrates again, just wanting to change something small that won't make this such a disconcerting experience. After a few moments, she opens her eyes again, and is somewhat pleased with what she sees. Her eyes are the only thing that have changed, becoming a lighter, more silver-based shade of gray. Now she doesn't look like one of the scions of the Uchiha clan heads – more like a cousin of some sort.

Taking one last look at herself, Sakura opens the bathroom door and walks out, shutting it behind her. Itachi is leaning against the opposite wall, reading out of his unmarked black book again, and Sakura idly resolves to find out what the hell is _in_ it, after she comes back. Because she _is_ going to come back, and she stops in the middle of the room to make sure that she has enough weaponry discreetly concealed in the sleek pockets of her short skirt, vaguely aware of him setting aside the book and taking in her new appearance. "Well, Itachi, I guess that I'll just—"

And then Itachi is in front of her, so suddenly that Sakura doesn't even have time to blink…but _then_ she blinks, because he is looking at her – _through_ her – as if he has never seen her before. Sakura swallows over her suddenly dry throat, his intense scrutiny and proximity making her just a little uncomfortable, but before she can open her mouth to nervously ask if there's anything wrong, he shocks her even further by moving slowly, as not to frighten her, gently, lightly stroking the back of his knuckles down the length of her right cheekbone.

The (_voluntary; what the hell is wrong with him?) _touch, combined with the expression in his eyes are both more than a little unsettling, and Sakura can't help but take a step back, but before she has moved more than a few inches, she finds her back colliding with the wall. "What are you—" she begins, now feeling thoroughly alarmed and distraught and all sorts of other unpleasant adjectives—

Then Itachi steps closer. Again. Wraps an arm around her waist, before she can even finish what she was about to say. (Although, to be fair, Sakura can hardly remember what it is that she was about to say, by this point.)

Valiantly, she tries again, focusing her gaze on his shoulder and the crimson clouds of his cloak as to not lose her focus. "Itachi—"

And Itachi effectively silences Sakura's protests by angling his head tentatively, ever-so-slightly, and leaning closer, pressing his lips to hers.

* * *

_to be continued_

* * *

:D

As always, any and all feedback would be very much appreciated! :)


	10. Complications

_As always, thank you so much to everybody who was absolutely fantastic enough to review. As of last chapter, this fic became not only my longest to date – but also the one with the most reviews. Thank you so, so much to everybody who has ever taken the time to leave feedback; it means a lot to me. :)_

_This is __**really, really important. **__In a review that I recieved for chapter five – where there was a flashback to Itachi's childhood, featuring Shisui and Sasuke – one reviewer mentioned that, according to the latest Naruto Unofficial Handbook that she had read at Barnes & Noble, __**Shisui Uchiha is actually a girl**__. Shisui, as in Itachi's rival and the best friend that he supposedly had to kill in order to obtain the Mangekyou Sharingan. I don't know for sure if this is legitimate or whatever; I haven't actually seen the page in question with my own eyes, but…now that I know this new piece of information, I'm choosing to go with it. Even if it turns out that it isn't true, I will still assume it to be, within the canon of this story – it is an AU, after all. Please don't flame or hate me for the modification. D: _

_-_

_Chapter Ten: Complications_

_-_

For the second time in as many days, Sakura's heart actually ceases beating, before starting up again at what feels like an impossibly fast rate. In one wild moment, she thinks that this might be some particularly troublesome delusion brought on by a mild form of post-traumatic stress disorder, but this train of thought is abruptly derailed, because no delusion could feel so _real._

Sakura has frozen in place from the shock of the sudden contact, standing stiffly half-against the wall and half in Itachi's arms. Determined to get _some_ sort of reaction, he presses even closer, until both of them fall against the wall, and at first, Sakura doesn't even realize that she has stretched up, interlocking her fingers behind his neck, even as part of her desperately asks what the _hell_ she's doing – because nothing about this is right. Still, she is vaguely conscious of Itachi's arms snaking around her waist in response, one hand lightly tracing up the length of her spine, making her whimper a little; that entire area of her body is still sore from yesterday – and his touch is also making her shiver for different reasons entirely. Then his fingers thread into the loose locks of her hair, and Sakura tenses almost imperceptibly. The gesture reminds her too much of what had happened yesterday, but Itachi's touch is carefully gentle as he uses his fingers' purchase in her hair to tilt her head back a little, before slowly, effortlessly deepening the kiss.

Her knees actually give out underneath her, and this time, it isn't an act. Itachi's fingers brush against the sensitive skin at the back of her neck, in approval of her involuntary reaction. Somewhat dizzily, Sakura observes that this is wrong and bad in every way, because Itachi is _clearly_ out of his mind and she should be pushing him away as hard as she can, and maybe even punching him for good measure, just to see if it jolts him out of whatever fit of temporary insanity that he is currently experiencing, but Sakura just closes her eyes, feeling her heart slam against her ribcage. She is fairly sure that this is as much of an assault as she had experienced last night, except now, instead of her being forced into anything, Itachi is meticulously, painstakingly coaxing her into responding, with every lingering caress of his hands against her hair and back, not to mention the slow, langurous nature of his kisses—

And, against her better judgment, that is exactly what Sakura does; standing on her tiptoes and wrapping her arms tighter around his shoulders, angling her head in a way that deliberately allows him more access to her, because _kami,_ she will be lying to herself if she attempts even denying that part of her, however small, is strongly attracted to him – on a purely physical basis, of course.

Sakura closes her eyes, then, half-marveling at how this feels, because they are so very close and she can feel and taste him against her with every tentative movement of their lips and tongues, and this is such a blatantly _human _set of sensations that she is almost surprised that he is even capable of them. But then Itachi begins to run his hands down the sides of her body, carefully tracing the contours of her figure from the base of her neck down. His firm, calloused palms brush against her more sensitive curves, all the while never allowing the burning intensity of their kiss to subside, and the breath leaves her body in a harsh gasp as she arches into him almost involuntarily. Sakura grips his shoulders hard, and for a moment, she twists against him a little, suddenly feeling somewhat overwhelmed by the sheer suddenness and intimacy of what they are doing, because she _likes_ him, yes, but she's not quite sure if she's ready for this, yet.

His hands are at her hips, now, firmly but not roughly holding her in place, and then Itachi pulls back a fraction of an inch, looking mildly confused by her sudden change in demeanor. Sakura meets his gaze more than a little desperately, all too aware that she's still gasping for breath, because of the mere memory of what he had felt like, pressed against her, holding her like that, and the fact that his hands are still on her hips…

"Itachi," she breathes, feeling somewhat disoriented, and more than a little confused. "Why are you—"

Itachi's eyes darken into an even stormier shade of gray, and before Sakura can even continue, he lifts a hand, gently drawing the slightly rough pad of his right thumb against the sensitive skin of her strawberry-glossed lips. The unconscious sensuality of the gesture causes her to fall silent once more, just staring up at him with wondering eyes, and then he kisses her again, even deeper than before.

Sakura doesn't know why she lets him. It shouldn't be possible that even though he is making her feel all tangled up inside in a way that she hates, and that she will regret this the moment he lets go of her again, part of her still wants to press every inch of herself against him; feel his heartbeat against her own, inhale the scent that is slowly, alarmingly, becoming so familiar to her, and trace the play of his lean muscles underneath her hands.

As if he is thinking along the same lines, Itachi pulls her as close as he can, and then starts to rub his thumbs in achingly slow circles against her hipbones. The heat from his skin feels as if it is danger of burning through the material of her thin t-shirt, and Sakura catches her breath, her head tilting back even further. And just like that, he pulls away and straightens slightly, giving her room to breathe. At first, she curls her hands in the material of his Akatsuki cloak in order to regain her balance, but then it becomes for another reason entirely, as he lightly brushes his lips across the shell of the top of her ear, before slowly working his way downward. _This_ is something new, and Sakura abruptly stills as a defense mechanism, trying to figure out whether she likes it or not.

Then his teeth nip her earlobe ever so slightly, and all the breath leaves her body in a long, dizzying sigh as she leans forward, resting her forehead against the crook of Itachi's neck. Despite Tsunade-shishou's habit and the general consensus that she has inherited _all_ of her mentor's skills, Sakura has never been drunk before – but she thinks that this is what it must feel like. And despite her better judgment – if she shoves all rational thought and reasoning out of her head – she is finding that she rather likes it.

Itachi continues to move down the side of her neck, not quite kissing, but more like exploring the sensitive skin there with tentative movements of his lips and teeth. Distantly, he hears her give a soft sigh of contentment as she tightens her arms around his shoulders, and he angles his head against the corner of her throat again, holding her close, and simply breathing her sweet fresh-strawberry scent in—

And he freezes, somewhat returning to himself.

It's not right.

She is supposed to smell darker and more elusive, a little bit more like him. Like a mixture of the forest after a particularly strong rainstorm, and the rushing, torrential rapids of the Nakano River. The scent of fire and smoke should linger on her clothes and skin, the hallmark of her Katon, which was never quite as strong as his and which, despite everything, she had never quite been able to forgive him for.

As if on autopilot, Itachi's hands leave her hips as he slowly eases himself back to his full height. This time, he feels the tension contained in her slender frame as his hands brush against the curves of her body – something that has never happened before. The hair that falls a little past her shoulders, tumbling just over her collarbone, is sleek and silky against his fingers, well-maintained and showing no marks of the wind's roughness, or the ash that often lingers there.

Too late, Itachi realizes his mistake, as he meets her – Sakura, _Sakura;_ how could he have been so stupid? – gaze. She is nibbling her lower lip (just as he had been doing for her, a few minutes ago), looking as shocked as he feels, and before his eyes, the henge dispells – probably due to emotional duress. Her wide-eyed gaze is as green as spring apples, her hair that bright, vivid incomparable shade of pink, but _nothing else changes_, and Sakura still looks exactly like her. Their facial features are absolutely identical in a way that makes him marvel at the fact that he hasn't noticed it before, and the way that she fits against him so perfectly indicates that they would have been within an inch of each other in height, and mirror each other exactly in body structure. If not for the differences in hair and eye color, they could be twins – and kami, now that Itachi realizes it, part of him doesn't want to take his eyes off her. He isn't fully conscious of bringing his hand up again, stroking down the length of her delicate cheekbone with the back of his knuckles in a touch so light that it barely grazes her skin; wanting, _needing_ to convince himself that this is real, because—

Sakura flinches away from his touch, looking down at the carpet sharply.

In the next second, Itachi is a few feet away from her again, apparently having regained some of his icy self-control, and she can't read the incredibly strained expression in his eyes; honestly, Sakura isn't sure if she _wants_ to, anyway. Before she can even begin to sort out her tangled thoughts and her racing heart and the sudden, overwhelming impulse to hit him as hard as she can for starting this; for ruining everything between them – surprisingly enough, Itachi is the one to break the tense silence. "Sakura—"

Perhaps it is an unreasonable response, but she has never been the most emotionally stable, and at this precise moment, Sakura is unsure whom she hates more – him for kissing her, or herself for responding to him like that.

"I can't do this right now," she says flatly, truthfully, and before the words have finished echoing around the small room, Sakura has been replaced by a whirl of flower petals. Before Itachi's gaze, they flutter to the ground disconsolately, crushed pale pink against a sea of the bleakest white.

-

"_Damn it, Itachi, I don't even know if you _understand_ this, but they're my…everything._

-

Itachi looks at his hands.

It has been so long since they've _touched_ like that. Five years, almost six. Not since that fateful evening on the banks of the river that ran through the Uchiha compound.

They are shaking, at the memory. Not overtly, but subtly; small tremors that run through the course of his fingers as he remembers. He tries not to, but like the other horrors of his fifteenth year, this – _she_ – is something that he will never be able to forget.

Their lips, pressed together – a little awkwardly, yes, but that had always been all right. Her hands tangling in his hair, left long even then, and his, wrapping around her waist and pulling her close. At the same time, the soft soil at the banks of the river that ran through the Uchiha compound, damp beneath their knees. The map of pressure points that neither of them needed, but that she had brought along, just in case.

The sound of her favorite green-inked pen, scratching out the letters that will form her final note, as Itachi watches next to her, his eyes crimson with the light of their bloodline limit. Her script is too calm and unshaking for being a fifteen, almost sixteen-year-old who is, in essence, planning her own suicide, and Itachi looks too detached for being a fifteen, almost sixteen-year-old who is watching his cousinrivalbestfriendgirlfriend (_everything_), getting ready to end her life – and, by doing so, plunging both of them and the rest into a clan into a downward spiral that will eventually culminate in the bloodiest night in the history of the village.

But Shisui writes with one hand, and Itachi holds the paper in place with one hand, and their fingers are intertwined under the table, both of them holding on tight to the last few weeks, days, hours, that they have left.

-

_The Katon is one of Itachi's best, but it does not even singe her hair._

_Shisui turns in place and flickers out of sight a fraction of a second before the fireball would have incinerated her – her parents have chided her for her 'arrogance' for years upon years now; not like that's ever had any impact on her – and then, before he can do so much as spin around, Itachi feels the tip of her kunai brush the back of his neck teasingly. "I don't care what they said at the ANBU entrance exams – you're still so _slow_," she sighs exaggeratedly. _

_He strikes, with speed so fast that the eye can barely follow it, and even then, his knuckles only graze the side of Shisui's ribs as she vanishes again, to some more remote location in the forest. Her high-spirited, slightly mocking laughter is the only indication of her former presence, and Itachi rakes his gloved fingers back through his hair, allowing himself the luxury of a small sigh. He has known her for his entire life – seen her every day of the past fourteen years and six months, almost exactly; she is a week older than he is – but sometimes, Shisui just makes him want to—_

_Itachi stops for a fraction of a second, frowns. Want to _what_, exactly?_

_-_

_Shisui leads him throughout the course of the great forest that spans the Uchiha compound, reveling in her speed and the fact that he is always slower than her by the sparsest of moments. When Itachi finally catches up to her, though, they are both too tired to do much more than collapse on the rough grass in the meadow that borders the forest, panting slightly into the cool night air. The moon has just risen, silver against a sky that is almost dark purple._

"_You should just admit that you'll never be able to catch me," Shisui says playfully, if not a little smugly, as she tries futilely to rub the grass stains off the hem of her short, sand-colored skirt._

_Itachi makes a somewhat disparaging sound in the back of his throat. "Perhaps on the day that you freely admit that my Katon is far superior to yours."_

_At this, Shisui wastes no time in ripping out a handful of dried grass and flinging the withered stalks at him in retaliation, even though she subsequently bursts out giggling at the expression on Itachi's face. _

_-_

_They are the oldest of their generation, and sometimes they are watched as they spar in the middle of the courtyard. Once a year, to judge their progress, they are evaluated by the elders, and both of them do not care for what they hear, in their own separate ways._

"_Admirable," Tekka observes sedately, watching Shisui spin in place and vanish out of the path of Itachi's fire technique – which is arguably the fastest and most powerful out of any clan member's, including that of his own father. "She is nothing compared to him, of course, but when judged on her own merit, Shisui shows great promise."_

_Teyaki snorts a little, drawing her crocheted blanket closer around herself. "If only she were born male. As it is, the only greatness she is destined for is as his wife – although it is not like being the future lady of the clan isn't as much as anybody could ever want."_

_Even in the midst of their fight, Itachi can see Shisui's eyes narrow into thin slits of silvery-gray as she matches his Katon with one of her own. Before he can counter the move, she vanishes into thin air. _

_He does not see her for the next three days. _

_He tries to tell himself that it doesn't matter._

_-_

_When they next meet in the forest – by accident; they favor the same training grounds – the resulting fight is more vicious than anything that they have ever done before. As Itachi extracts one of Shisui's shuriken from where it had lodged in his arm without so much as a wince, he cannot help but wonder what has happened to them. He has no memories of it, but pictures and his mother assure him that they had shared toys as babies; spent almost every waking hour for the next thirteen years in the company of one another. She had been his closest – his _only_ – friend until the summer that they had turned thirteen; when he became a jounin and Shisui was overlooked for the exams – and, as a result, all but forgotten by the rest of the clan. _

_Itachi makes the mistake of detachedly stating this observation, immediately after he manages to punch her in the throat. He feels a small measure of remorse almost the second afterward; not because of the way Shisui gasps and massages her neck (because even by this age, both of them have experienced pain a thousand times worse), but because of the tears that so abruptly start to her eyes. This unsettling and unprecedented emotion, however, is replaced in the next moment by the abrupt re-surfacing of his self-preservation instinct – triggered by the way Shisui forms her few hand seals with vision-blurring speed and exhales the largest Katon that he has ever seen from her._

_This would be a great deal more impressive if it were not aimed squarely in his direction, and Itachi counters it with a massive water dragon technique at the last possible second. When the veritable wall of steam finally clears into the pink-and-purple sunset sky, he finds Shisui wiping the tears away from her cheeks with the back of her hand. "_You_ wouldn't know how frustrating it is, to have every skill that I've ever spent hours practicing called _nothing_ in comparison to someone else's," she bites out, her voice heavy with sarcasm. "Anybody else outside of this damned excuse for a family would say that I might even be one of the best kunoichi in the village," – she punctuates her words by whirling around and throwing a kunai at the nearest tree with such force that it buries itself hilt-deep in the bark – "but that doesn't matter; in this clan, nobody sees me as anything more than your future wife."_

_The words hang in the still autumn air between them, heavy with long-suppressed resentment and bitterness. For a moment, Itachi is not quite sure what to say – but even though of late they have not been as close, he remembers that he still does know Shisui almost as well as he knows himself. _

_She stiffens as he crosses the distance between them in a few steps and wraps his arms around her waist, though, holding her in a simple embrace. Despite their close relationship in more ways than one, they have not done this since they were much, much younger, and didn't know any better. As it is, Itachi finds the physical contact somewhat awkward but not unpleasant, and after a few moments, he is surprised to feel Shisui reaching up, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. This feels different than his vague memories of such things, although that is probably to be expected. Her head fits neatly underneath his chin, and he feels his cheek press against the warm ash that lingers in her hair. _

"_I see you as more than that."_

_It is Itachi, and therefore, the statement isn't sentimental or intended to convey any deeeper meaning in the least. It is nothing more and nothing less than the absolute truth, and she smiles against his neck._

_Later that night, in solitude, he will wonder why the embrace lasted so long, why neither of them made any attempt to move. But for now, Shisui just re-adjusts the placement of her hands, interlocking her fingers behind his neck, and Itachi merely notices the way her cheek curves as she looks up, giving him a small smile. _

"_What do you see me as?" Shisui asks, and for once, her tone isn't overwhelmingly high-spirited or sarcastic or teasing in any way – it is yet another reason that the elders of the clan favor Itachi so much over her; she shows a range of unbridled emotion nearly unheard of for any Uchiha. _

_It is just a simple question, and he has forgotten how soft and genuinely curious her voice can get. More disturbing, though, is the way that Itachi is not quite sure how to answer. She is his second cousin, his rival, his best friend, and they have been so very close for so long that sometimes it feels like the lines between where he ends and she begins get blurred – and not only because they look so much alike, either. _

_For a moment, Itachi's arms tighten around her, drawing her closer. "I don't know," he replies at last. It is an inconclusive statement, which he generally finds utterly unacceptable and despises hearing from others, but in these circumstances, it is nothing but the truth._

_Shisui says nothing in response for a long time, but finally, she pulls away from his arms, although she still holds both of his hands in her own – and, for once, she looks completely serious. "Think about it?"_

_In all honesty, Itachi is not fully sure what he is agreeing to, but then, before he can consider the issue further, Shisui steps closer, stretching up on the tips of her toes and pressing a soft, quick kiss to his cheek. It lasts less than a fraction of a second; the moment her lips brush against his skin seems to be the same moment she disappears into nothing, leaving Itachi standing in the midst of the clearing, staring at the sun as it slips beneath the horizon. _

_Once he is completely sure that he is alone, he closes his eyes for the briefest of seconds, and touches his cheek. _

_-_

_Between missions and the familial duties of the clan, they see each other quite often, but the only time that they are truly _together_ is for two hours, once every week – sparring in the forest and ending the night in the meadow, as always. _

_It is on one of these nights that Itachi realizes just how utterly maddening Shisui is. Her distinctive set of skills and impressive intellect aside – her intelligence is rivaled only by his own – she is simply blatantly unfit to be a member of the Uchiha clan. _

_Because, for the kami's sake; what kind of self-respecting shinobi uses their inhuman speed as an excuse to rapidly flit back and forth out of the line of sight, thereby avoiding a real, honorable fight in favor of…throwing pinecones?_

_After half an hour spent in the irritatingly futile pursuit of attempting to incapacitate Shisui during the nanosecond that she is actually visible in one set location, while simultaneously deflecting so many pinecones that his knuckles are actually scraped and bleeding, Itachi's eyes narrow and finally bleed crimson. His observation of her pays off; he waits three seconds exactly after activating his Sharingan, and there is the slightest shimmer in the air ten feet to his left. _

_The very moment that Shisui fully materializes is the same second she finds herself with her back pressed to a tree that is at least twenty feet from where she had initially attempted to land. She is disoriented, at first, and after she blinks a few times and her vision clears, she is startled to find Itachi with his arms around her waist, locking her in place – and, incidentally enough, looking just as confused about what has just happened as she does. Their harsh breath mingles in the cold air, and for some reason, Shisui doesn't attempt to fight him off; she just allows herself to lean forward, catching herself against his chest – he is still wearing his full ANBU regalia; the metal guards are cold against her body – and curling her fingers around his upper arms as she stares up at him, completely astounded. "You caught me," she breathes, tilting her head to the side and looking somewhat injured. "Nobody's ever…"_

_Shisui doesn't quite notice where she trails off. Somewhere between noticing the way Itachi's midnight-black and metal ANBU gear shines too silver in the moonlight. And that he's wearing the sleek, too-long red scarf that she had bought for him last winter – it is wrapped around his neck only once, and the extra length flutters about ever so slightly in the moonlight. His long ponytail (his hair is much longer than hers, Shisui observes with an inner frown; hers falls just to her shoulders, while his easily touches the middle of his back) is slightly disheveled, a few long locks falling out to frame his face. _

…_And, of course, she realizes _way_ too late that they're still holding on to each other, completely unnecessarily. And that Itachi happens to be staring down at her with the same kind of unreadable intensity that she had been observing him with a few moments ago, except his gaze is made all the more piercing by the crimson light of the Sharingan. _

_Shisui really isn't sure which one of them starts it, or whether this is Itachi's way of answering the question she had asked him a week ago. If this is even really _happening_, because last time she had checked, they were the closest of friends and the bitterest of rivals (at least on her part, anyway), and nothing more. _

_It is too cold in the forest. It's a little awkward, because neither of them have ever done this before. But the wind ghosts through the trees and Shisui presses herself closer to Itachi, their fingers figuring out how to tangle and intertwine as they kiss in a manner that seems equal parts curiosity and passion, and despite the fact that on most days, they seem to be nothing but differences, Shisui doesn't think that, before this, either of them have ever felt anything so very _right_._

_-_

_Shisui absolutely hates sounding cliché like this, but she also prides herself on being the only non-emotionally constipated member of the Uchiha Clan – which is why, as she and Itachi kneel in front of each other, at the banks of the river that cuts through their forest (the entire clan's training grounds, technically, but she cannot help but refer to it as _their_ forest), six months after their first kiss, she abruptly breaks the comfortable silence that has settled over them by stating that the past half year has been the best of her life._

_Itachi had been staring into the depths of the river, watching the rapids gushing white and silver over the jagged rocks at the bottom, but now, he looks at Shisui again, his eyes lingering on her. "Mine as well," he states simply, but the words ring somewhat hollow._

_She is quiet for a few moments, her fingers absently tracing patterns over Itachi's hand. "What's wrong?" she asks softly, because even now, when he is at his most removed and detached, she can still read his moods as well as she can her own. Of late, the stress lines underneath his eyes have become deeper, and he seems older and more withdrawn, in more ways than one—_

_Itachi is silent for so long that she wonders if he had even heard her. It goes without saying that he had been explicitly forbidden to breathe or even hint a word of any of this to a member of the clan, but he has kept silent about this for so, _so_ long that he does not think that he can take it any longer; the weight of this secret feels as if it will choke the life out of him with slow, creeping tendrils if he continues to let it remain hidden. "…The rumors are true," he says at long last, without glancing away from the river, its troubled depths reflecting in his equally conflicted eyes._

_Shisui tenses visibly, drawing her hands back on instinct as she remembers whispers of what her father and mother talk about when they think she isn't listening. "You mean—" she begins, hating the way her voice gets higher-pitched on the last word. _

_By contrast, Itachi seems as calm as usual as he nods, although Shisui catches sight of the barely repressed tension in the set of his shoulders. "The elders have ordered me to report the plans and activities of the clan directly to them," he replies, and his voice is so very quiet that she has to strain to hear it. _

"_And after they hear the truth?" Shisui asks, a little more sharply than she had intended. But she is just as intelligent as he is, and she puts the pieces together in less than a second, and then, everything around her seems to fade away as her heartbeat slows to a near stop, before starting up again, twice as fast as usual. "Oh, kami," she says faintly. "They wouldn't. They wouldn't order something like that – they wouldn't make _you_—"_

_In the next second, she feels one of his fingers pressing against her lips, gently silencing her (but not denying it; this horrible concept that seems to have come out of somewhere beyond even her worst nightmares), and because Shisui has never given a damn about stoicity, she falls into Itachi's arms, already shaking out of a mixture of shock and disbelief. "When?" she manages to ask._

_Itachi's grip around her is trying to be soothing, like he has enough strength for both of them, but she can hear the hoarseness in his voice. "The twelfth of October."_

_Today is the thirteenth of May. _

_The next thing Shisui knows, her head is spinning and Itachi is gently holding her hair back as she becomes suddenly, violently ill into the raging depths of the river, while her fingernails rake into the damp soil so much that it hurts. _

_After it is over, Itachi leans against a tree and lets her curl into his arms, and Shisui is vaguely conscious that she is still trembling hard, and even Itachi, the prodigy of the Uchiha clan and the strongest of them all, is shivering slightly, as the two of them look up into the dark, moonless sky._

_-_

_Despite his new _duty_, Itachi and Shisui meet at the banks of the Nakano River every night, now. They do not always talk, but he holds her tightly enough that she always finds bruises on her ribs the next morning. With every day that passes (with every time he looks into his mother's eyes and feels the weight of his father's hand on his shoulder and pokes little Sasuke on the forehead), he thinks that he is falling apart a little bit more, losing a little bit more of himself. _

_Every night, he has nightmares about what it will be like. He has not slept for more than a week. _

"_Itachi," Shisui murmurs one night; as summer advances, it is getting warmer, and the air is balmy and heavy with the weight of their secrets. Her voice sounds faraway, distant. "I don't want to see the day—"_

_Itachi thinks he gives a soft reply of some sort, but then Shisui takes his hand and squeezes it tight, looking at him with a kind of quiet desperation that he has never seen before. "You don't understand," she says, and the light breeze stirs her hair as she attempts a smile that looks all wrong. "I don't intend to _live_ to see October twelfth."_

_-_

_It takes him a moment to comprehend her meaning, and in the next second, he pulls his hand away from hers. "You don't mean—"_

_It is an instinctive reaction, one of the only things that he has ever said that is born out of pure emotion and nothing else – because how else is one supposed to react, when their _everything_ tells them that they fully intend ceasing to exist?_

_But Shisui's eyes glimmer with a sudden anger, nevertheless. "What am I supposed to do, Itachi?" she half yells, her voice cracking underneath the strain. "Do you think that on – that night, I'm just going to let you cut me down? Lie in my room with my back to the door and pretend that I don't hear you killing my parents downstairs, all while counting the minutes that it takes you to walk up to where I am? Do you want me to take some pills beforehand, so that you'll only have to stab me when I'm sleeping, or would you prefer that I kiss you goodbye first and then put your katana to my throat?"_

_Her voice is low and venomous, now, and for the first time since everything has begun, Itachi feels his throat tighten and close over, and he hates it. "Stop," he says, his voice rougher than it has ever been with her. "I won't—"_

"_You won't kill me?" Shisui asks quietly, bitterly. "You don't want to kill me. Just like you don't want to kill your mother or father or Sasuke or _anybody_, but…you can only save Sasuke, Itachi. You're going to save him and feed him a lie, and he will grow up believing it, and it's going to wreck him. It will destroy him from the inside out. The rest of us will be luckier."_

_Itachi wants to tell her not to say that. He wants to tell her that they can find a way to fake her death, and they can leave this place together, try to outrun the nightmare that these past months have been and that the future will become. _

_He can't._

_Shisui watches him break a little, and she blinks the tears away from her eyes and puts her arms around his shoulders again. "I love you," she breathes, the truth of the past fifteen years finally realizing itself in the soft words, muted against the harsh metal of his ANBU uniform. "Please help me do it."_

_-_

_Itachi refuses. That night, and every one after it._

"_You'll need the Mangekyou, anyway," Shisui points out, plucking the petals off a flower and dropping them into the river, one by one, where they are swept off, blood-red against the dark water. She is more removed, more detached than she has ever been before; more like the kunoichi that the clan has always expected her to be. "The elders did order you to…change your behavior, yes? Create suspicion, so that things will be a little more…" – she looks away, blinking hard – "…plausible, when they happen? And what could do more to cast a shadow on you than…this?"_

_Itachi has been trying to ignore her for the past half hour, but at this, he is forced to incline his head a fraction of an inch. "Yes."_

_Shisui takes her hand in his, twining their fingers together, and for the briefest of seconds, a specter of her usual humor returns. "So you'll be killing two birds with one stone."_

_Itachi pulls away from her._

_-_

"_Are the clan elders really supposed to believe that I would kill _you_, of all people?" he snaps – actually snaps, in a way that he has done only once before – at Shisui, the next day. "Your logic is pathetic—"_

_Shisui gives him a quelling glare, settling her knees under her in a way that could almost be called demure. "At the meeting earlier today, they told me to keep an eye on you, you know? Which means that your little changes in behavior aren't going unnoticed. And," – she smirks a little – "they know that despite that, we're still _friends._" _

_Itachi blinks, startled at the sudden change in topic, and Shisui leans against him. "You're the prodigy," she says quietly. "The prodigy who, rumor has it, is slowly becoming unstable. Who shuns the company of all others besides his beloved immediate family…and his dear cousin Shisui."_

_He knows where she is going with this, and he tenses almost imperceptibly, but she continues talking nevertheless. "Imagine your reaction if you came to know that your one closest and most trusted friend was selling your secrets to the clan elders," Shisui's voice is even softer now, sounding much further away. "You would probably snap. Kill her in retaliation…supposedly." She pauses, letting her bare foot dangle over the banks into the swiftly rushing Nakano River. "Maybe it could be a drowning. It could even be passed off as suicide." A small, ironic smirk, this time. "…Your culpability would never be proved, of course. Either way, you would gain the Mangekyou, which says enough. Of course it's noticeable. It would set the rest of the clan whispering. And…set the perfect stage for the role you're about to play."_

_Itachi closes his eyes. Shisui talks about committing suicide, but sometimes he feels that he is the one who wants to stop. Stop breathing, stop his heart from beating, stop existing—_

"_Your logic is pathetic," he reiterates in a tone as flat as he can make it, but Shisui's fingers tighten around his, because her logic is perfect, and both of them know it. _

_-_

_In a matter of a few months, they have gone from talking about things almost frivolous while holding hands and sharing innocent (and not-so-innocent) kisses in the meadow, to kneeling on the banks of the Nakano River and planning Shisui's premature demise as if it is nothing more than a plot device in a horrifyingly grotesque sort of play, and Itachi absolutely hates it._

"_This will be my note," she informs him one particular evening, holding it out to him. The letters are written in green on paper that is faded so much it is nearly transleucent, and despite the millions of atrocities he has seen and committed, Itachi nearly flinches back from this one. "I mean – use your Sharingan to copy my handwriting and draft the real one…it's what they will come to suspect, anyway." _

_Shisui smiles a smile that doesn't reach her eyes as she places the folded sheet of paper beside him, and for the first time in a long time, Itachi is the one to reach out and take her hand._

_-_

_Surprisingly enough, Itachi is the one to bring it up, once it becomes far too clear that this is not just another of Shisui's fleeting, mercurial ideas. _

"_How will you do it?" he asks, and he cannot bring himself to look at her as he says it. October twelfth is creeping closer and closer; it is the first week of September, and Itachi is already, involuntarily withdrawing into himself, focusing on holding every single moment with his mother and father and little Sasuke, and, of course, Shisui, close – while he still can. Because that will not be possible, none of it, after she…because he knows with startling clarity that his family will stand by him, but they will never be able to shake those elusive vestiges of suspicion. Nothing will ever be the same, ever again. _

_She is silent for a few long moments. "I don't know," she finally admits. "I was thinking about it last night. Pressure points, maybe. Or a single pulse of chakra to the heart should work."_

_Shisui pulls out a weathered diagram of human pressure points from her pocket. Neither of them need it, but they spread it on the soil beneath them and stare down at it nevertheless. Itachi looks at the red-inked man painstakingly drawn on the paper, each lethal point outlined in black pen, and he cannot imagine her in place of it. Striking the base of her neck or her solar plexus too hard, pressing down on her temples, putting a hand to her chest and sending one single, cold pulse of chakra straight from his palm into her heart—_

_They have exactly one week._

_And he pulls her into his arms, suddenly and unceremoniously, so that she screeches and crushes the map beneath her knees. It is probably the most uncharacteristic thing that Itachi has _ever_ done with her, and Shisui looks up at him, confused, but he only bends his head a little, so that she feels his nose brush her cheek, the long strands of his hair tickling her ear. "Let's not talk about it," he suggests, his voice rougher than usual. _

_It is as close to a plea as he can and will ever get, and Shisui stretches up in silent acquiescence, pressing her lips against his. _

_-_

_They haven't talked about it for the past week. _

_The soil is damp beneath their knees. The air smells of leaves turning from green to gold. The sun has just set. The river is raging beside them, as usual. Everything has been planned and arranged. Shisui is wearing her customary outfit of a plain black t-shirt and a short, sand-colored skirt and Itachi is wearing his ANBU uniform and the red scarf she had bought him so long ago, and they kneel across from one another, holding hands, as if this is some kind of twisted marriage ceremony. _

_Both of them are trying to pretend that they aren't drinking each other in with their eyes, knowing that this is the last time, the last night, and finally, Shisui inclines her head slightly, so that her hair falls over her eyes. "Ready?" she asks softly._

"_No," Itachi murmurs in response._

_And for a few moments, both of them are unsure of what to do. But then, displaying the speed that she is still legendary for, Shisui leans forward and rakes her fingers through his hair, and then they are kissing hard and more than a little desperately, even though this hadn't been part of the initial plan. Itachi's hands are shaking slightly as he wraps his arms around her, pulling her as close against him as he can, and they stay like this for a long time, until the moment that Shisui pulls back, smiling very tremulously. "The timing's off," she says, resting her forehead against his neck and kissing his pulse point to mask her sudden nervousness – irrational, considering what she had really been here to do. "But – I still want to…"_

_Shisui trails off, her voice breaking somewhat, and Itachi pulls her back up to him, and then, they are quiet._

_-_

_The world has slowed to the two of them. Dressed once again, with Itachi's hands bracing themselves on Shisui's back as she inhales and exhales, trying her best to calm down. He closes his eyes for a moment, savors the feeling of her heart beating against his, as one. Both of their hearts are racing, for entirely different reasons. "Can you do it?" Itachi finds himself asking, after a few minutes have passed, and depite her carefully-laid plans and flawless logic, he is hoping beyond all hope that she has lost her nerve, after what they have just done, that she won't be able to do it—_

_Shisui takes a few more deep, steadying breaths, before straightening her back, so that the two of them are eye-to-eye. "I can. Just…hold on to me?"_

_He does so. _

_There is nothing that one can say, in this situation. In the end, they both speak, and they do it at the exact same time, fittingly enough – fifteen, almost sixteen, years ago, they had spoken their first words within the same week. This isn't how they were supposed to end. _

"_I love you," Shisui breathes, in the same second that he says the same (the first time he has ever told her this), the words muffled by her hair. _

_Itachi feels her smile against his neck, and then she shifts positions slightly, so that he feels her putting her hand to her chest. _

_He has seen death a million times over. _

_He closes his eyes, still, and goes completely numb. Feels the pulse of chakra that she sends straight into her chest._

_Shisui sighs. Once. Relaxes into him, in a way that is too reminiscent of the time she fell asleep in his arms a few months ago, before all of this had begun._

_Involuntarily, Itachi's throat tightens, closes over as he places one shaking hand to the side of her neck. Nothing. _

_He hadn't thought that post-traumatic stress disorder could set in so rapidly after the traumatic experience, but clinically, he notices that he is already experiencing all the symptoms. He sets Shisui down on her back very gently (she looks so very serene; if he tilts his head a little to the right, he can almost see a ghost of a smile on her face), and Itachi almost can't bring himself to do it, but he knows that it is necessary. _

_He closes his hand around her throat, even though part of him is twisting up and curling into himself and begging in a childish, futile voice, wanting all of this to just _please_ stop. He tightens his grip and hates every moment and _needs_ to scrub this away, and he does this until he is certain that Shisui is bruising. Then he releases his grip, feeling sickened by the vague, barely-noticeable purplish blue patterns that are already starting to spread around her neck. She had left the note on her desk at home, and her parents are out on a mission. It is almost over._

_Itachi hasn't cried since he had been a baby. He isn't going to start now. But his throat feels as if it is on fire, his eyes burn with just as much vehemence, and his muscles feel as if they are seizing up as he lifts her into his arms. It hurts so, so much: holding her, touching her; for the first time, every area of his skin that is in contact with hers feels like it is alive with agony, but at the same time, he doesn't want to let go. _

_He does. He has to. He falls to his knees at the banks of the raging river, and he lets Shisui go. Turns away, the second after, unable to watch. He is almost unable to even be in this forest, where they had shared their first _everything,_ but Itachi finds a tree to lean against, anyway, turning his back to the river. _

_This is the first time he loses a part of himself. _

_There is just under a month until October twelfth._

_Itachi closes his eyes and bitterly thinks that he should start getting used to it._

_-_

_He stays away from home for three days, even though nobody will even start looking for Shisui until a week has passed – the average length of her missions. And Itachi takes a solo mission, like that's going to help anything._

_Itachi comes back, and nobody has ever been able to understand him fully, but everyone can tell that there is something wrong. His mother brushes a few long locks of hair out of his face one night, stroking his temple lightly, and looks worried—_

_And he flinches. Violently. It burns._

_Two days later, his father pats him on the shoulder for some reason. His reaction is the same. _

_It takes him a week to realize that whenever he touches, whenever he is touched, whenever he even sees anything like it – he thinks of Shisui. Feels her die, in his arms. Remembers curling his hands around her too-still throat and tightening his grip. _

-

The hotel room is too still, too cold, too quiet. Too white. It is in the middle of a city, and there aren't any rivers for miles, but Itachi can still hear the rush of the raging water as it swallowed up—

He gets up; makes a cup of tea almost mechanically. Takes a sip of it, and then realizes that it is chai – her favorite. He goes into the bathroom and pours it down the sink.

It is an old wound, yes. It had happened five, almost six years ago, but he still feels the residual effects every day, lingering in his still-present anathema of touch. Shisui had been his first, his last, and until about half an hour ago – his only.

And then came Sakura.

Itachi is vaguely conscious of sighing, running his fingers through his hair. He still cannot believe that he had confused things like that, and he hates it. Such colossal mistakes have never been part of his repertoire, and he _knows_ that Shisui is irrevocably gone, but when Sakura had just walked out like that…it had been like seeing a ghost. Through some inopportune twist of fate, she had even been wearing the same _clothes_, for the kami's sake, and not for the first time, he wonders why he hadn't seen the almost uncanny physical resemblance earlier – perhaps because he had never been looking for it. But subconsciously, maybe some part of him had realized it; how many times had he found himself simply looking at Sakura, taking in the expressiveness of her eyes, learning every one of the subtle nuances of her body language?

Prior to this, Itachi has steadfastly refused to admit that he finds Sakura attractive – part of it is just because he has not entertained such sentiments toward any other individual since Shisui. Besides, considering their current situation, such entanglements would be…inappropriate, and not only because she is a good five years younger than him.

Itachi frowns at the thought, before reaching toward a packet of blueberry tea and forcing himself to return to the matter at hand. The tea is sweet, but he winces almost imperceptibly as he remembers Sakura's reaction immediately after their – encounter. She had responded to him, yes, but it could have just been because of instinct, or…

_Sasuke?_

The thought comes unbidden, and Itachi closes his eyes. He cannot – will not – allow himself to think about that.

But the thing that frightens him most was that, after they had kissed and touched so very heatedly, after Sakura released the henge and looked up at him with those liquid green eyes, and he had felt his fingers brush against her pink hair – then, he had no illusions about who she was. Sakura, and nobody else.

And, for the most fleeting of moments, Itachi had wanted to lean closer again, to capture her lips with his, thread his fingers into Sakura's hair and for her to do the same to him, to trace and learn the contours of her slim figure with his hands, wanted for her to wrap her arms around his shoulders and breathe his name in that slightly confused and more than a little desire-filled voice—

He had stepped away then, as disturbed by the almost overwhelming impulse as by the sudden, traumatizing reminder of Shisui.

Even now, Itachi isn't certain what he had attempted to say to Sakura, but admittedly, he does not blame her for leaving. She had obviously been shocked, shaken to the core by what had just happened, and the self-loathing was clearly visible in her eyes. She will be gone for another two days, which means that they will not have an opportunity to attempt any reconciliation of some sort until then. He sighs at the knowledge that the two of them had finally settled into a comfortable partnership, and now…things have been complicated more than he even wants to imagine.

Itachi stares into the depths of his tea with unseeing eyes. _Sakura. Konoha. _He will not say that he is worried about her, for her – he has no right to be.

Then again, as Sakura had pointed out, he had no _right_ to slaughter that pitiful excuse for a Root captain for her, either.

Itachi sighs again, closes his eyes and rests his head against the wall wearily. It is only afternoon, but he is completely drained, emotionally and otherwise. Prior to this, he has been unable to recognize the foreign emotion lingering at the back of his mind, but now, he can understand it as…confusion. He has not felt so unsure or conflicted in any way since he had been a teenager, immediately before he had been forced to leave Konoha – and he hates it. And of all the things to trigger this unpleasant feeling, it _has_ to be something as trivial as…a girl. Sakura.

Be that as it may, he knows that the next two days will be spent in the pursuit of nothing less than serious contemplation.

-

_Late That Night_

-

Sakura hadn't realized exactly how much she had missed them until they were together again.

She is jolted out of her momentary contemplation by the sudden impact of a pillow hitting her leg, and she cracks an eye open, from where she had been leaning against Ino's windowsill, admiring the moonlit village. "Ino, what—"

Ino beams, reclaiming the pillow. "You didn't think I had fallen asleep, did you? Like I would waste precious visiting hours in order for something trivial like resting, whatever…"

Sakura rolls her eyes playfully; she had made it into Konoha, met halfway and helped by Inoichi Yamanaka, earlier in the evening – and, kami, after she and Ino had finally stopped sobbing helplessly and were forced to relinquish their respective death-grips around each other's ribs, she, Ino, Shikamaru, and Chouji had promptly spent the next six hours straight sitting in a circle around the kitchen and talking incessantly. They had all exchanged sobering news, and Sakura had been shocked to see how much older and more worn her three best friends were. Chouji looked downright somber, some of that radiant, ever-present light in Ino's cornflower-blue eyes had dulled, and Shikamaru even looked…harder, sharper, and a whole lot more jaded, and Sakura sighs quietly at the realization that the grueling past nine months have taken their toll on all of them.

But that is besides the point – she's just happy to be here. In the warm, comfortable familiarity of Ino's room, where she's spent nights and countless hours talking to her best friend, lying on the worn purple quilt thrown haphazardly on top of the too-soft bed. The room has an unique scent of flowers and nail polish; created early on in their Academy days, when Ino would try to teach her how to arrange flowers better, and afterwards, Sakura would show off her steady, precise hand by giving both of them manicures with their shared favorite shade of nail polish: a bright, electric green.

Sakura is vaguely conscious of turning away from the window, curling into herself at the foot of Ino's bed and resting her head on one of the pillows. "Kami," she breathes, as she looks at her best friend, who is hugging her knees to her chest and looking equally nostalgic. "I missed this _so much_."

Traitorous tears prick at the corners of her eyes, and Ino notices at once, before leaning over and rubbing Sakura's back soothingly. "It's alright," she murmurs. "We all did." Trying to lighten the mood, the blonde girl gives her one of her trademark irrepressible smiles. "So, Sakura…"

"What?" Sakura groans, her melancholy reminiscing interrupted by a rather large prick of foreboding; she's been best friends with Ino for a decade now, so she just _knows_ what is going to come next…

Sakura isn't disappointed, and Ino smirks. "Don't give me that, Forehead Girl! You know what! I can understand you not wanting to talk about it in front of Shika and Chouji and _especially_ my dad; you know how protective he can get…but anyway, I _demand_ details about this mysterious partner of yours!"

Sakura gives an exaggerated sigh and buries her head into the pillow. She hadn't intended to even let the fact that she was traveling with somebody slip – she had been so mortified when, in some random anecdote about something, she had accidentally used the decidedly incriminating word '_we'_. Chouji had been the first to put it together, and most certainly the least evil about it; he only gave her a big smile and said that he was happy that she had a partner to be with. Then, predictably enough, Sakura had blushed. Shikamaru merely smirked in immediate response and asked if she found her partner _handsome_ (she's always sworn that Shikamaru has been out to get her since day one), and then Inoichi and Ino had fixed her with identical and very frightening stares.

Ino's had been frightening because at that second, Sakura just _knew_ that she would be relentlessly pumped for information later. Inoichi's…well, irrational as such a sentiment was, Sakura had experienced a moment of fear for Itachi's well-being. Hell hath no fury like a very, _very_ overprotective father figure.

…Not like any of them knew exactly _who_ her partner was, of course. Because that would have gone over well: "Yeah, guys, I've just been hanging out with Itachi Uchiha – you know, Sasuke's older brother? As in, _five years _older? The deadliest shinobi in Fire Country history, S-class criminal and Akatsuki member, who we all thought was an insane, mass-murdering, clan-killing psychopath, but in reality, turned out to be not that bad after all? The one who, oh, as far as you're concerned, is _dead_? Yeah. That one."

Sakura actually giggles at the thought.

Ino gives her a dirty look. "Care to share, dear? Here," – she swings her feet up onto the wall, tapping out a rather deadly pattern with her toes – "I'll make it easy for you. Does your mystery man have a name?"

Sakura just looks at her – as much as part of her is just dying to tell Ino _every _little weird thing that had led to her partnership with Itachi, she knows that…well, it just wouldn't be wise.

"Fine," Ino sighs deeply, recognizing that she has been defeated. "On to more important things, then." She raises her eyebrow suggestively. "Is he hot?"

_That _does it. "_Ino_!" Sakura hisses, utterly scandalized, and involuntarily remembering Itachi and the finer points of the…incident…that had occurred between them. "I…" Normally, she would deny it. She would rather die than admit her attraction to the elder Uchiha out loud, especially as a good half of her is still in denial about said fact. But, well – one of the universally acknowledged rules of bestfriendship is full disclosure about matters like this, and Sakura gives a world-weary sigh at the memory of the way Itachi's thumbs had stroked slow circles into her hipbones as he had been kissing her like that… "Kami, Ino, you have _no_ idea."

Ino grins wolfishly. "That good, hm? What does he look like?"

Sakura takes her time replying to this one, careful not to disclose too much information on accident. "Tall," she says finally, and in the privacy of Ino's bedroom, where millions of sacred secrets have been voiced, she allows herself to give voice to her deepest contemplations on the subject. Many of which had been enthused at great length by Inner Sakura, _while_ Sakura desperately tried to fall asleep, knowing that the subject of such musings was currently a mere two feet away from her – which turned out to be much more difficult than she had ever imagined. "…So damned attractive that it should be illegal. Long black hair, charcoal-gray eyes, just the right amount of muscle, high cheekbones, and eyelashes I wish _I _could have."

Ino giggles and pretends to swoon. "Wow, Sakura – you really know how to pick them."

"Don't I?" Sakura says mock-seriously, and kind of hoping that this will be enough to satisfy her best friend's craving for information—

"How old is he?" Ino asks abruptly, brushing a few locks of hair out of her eyes. "It's kind of hard to find _that_ degree of good looks in our age group…"

Sakura freezes, cursing Ino's sharpness. "Just a little bit older than I am," she replies evasively – after all, Kiba would testify that five years is just under _one_ year in dog years…

"Lucky," Ino says appreciatively, before giving her friend a searching look. "So, Sakura…"

Sakura flinches away from the question that she knows is coming, but Ino continues doggedly. "Are you two, um…involved in any way?"

"No!" Sakura replies too quickly, cursing the stupid, _stupid_ memory that makes her squirm in place. "We're just…partners…and…friends…"

She trails off weakly, and forgetting the need to keep her voice down (it is now just around one in the morning, after all), Ino screeches and hits her with a pillow again. "Lies, Sakura! _Lies!_ Full disclosure! Now!"

Despite the fact that she has easily faced much worse, Sakura cringes under the violent onslaught – and, at the same time, can't help but think ruefully that she has missed this so much, and for that fact alone, she gives in. "Shut up, Ino! We kissed, alright? I told him I was going to sneak back here, he freaked out, I told him I was leaving anyway, and just as I was saying goodbye, out of utterly _nowhere_, he kissed me! And he's never even given me any sign that he was interested like _that_…"

The opportunity to vent the frustration that has been plaguing her ever since it happened is almost as satisfying as the way Ino's jaw drops in astonishment. "Like…a little kiss? A good-bye kiss? Or—"

Sakura blushes at the recollection. "It, um, started like that."

"And it ended with?" Ino presses, looking rather fascinated.

"We kind of made out," Sakura mumbles, staring determinedly at the carpet; this entire story would be a hell of a lot easier to tell if _Itachi_, of all the people in the world, wasn't starring in the role opposite hers. "And…touched, and stuff. Except that I freaked out a little, after it was over, and…he tried to say something to me, but I left. Immediately."

"Wow," Ino exhales dramatically. "…After hearing this, Forehead Girl, I am forced to conclude that he wants you. Badly."

"He doesn't," Sakura retorts at once, sounding absolutely sure of herself. "Look, Ino, he's not…like the rest of us. At all. The fact that he even did that at all was absolutely shocking, because he just doesn't _do_ that stuff." The proper way to make Ino understand the magnitude of this situation dawns on her all of a sudden. "When it comes to anything regarding emotions, he's worse than _Sai_ had been, at his worst. I don't know why he…yeah, but—"

"Sakura," Ino sighs, exasperated. "It sounds a lot to me like he didn't want you to come because you would be risking your life. And instead of articulating this in a sweet and persuasive way, he…accurately guessed that showing you _physically_ would be a better way to convince you of his worry or sincerity or whatever."

Sakura gives Ino a look that tells her quite clearly that she isn't convinced in the least, and Ino decides to pat her on the hand. "You seem really…confused about it," she says softly. "Maybe you two should work it out, when you get back."

For some reason, the innocent statement brings tears to Sakura's eyes again, perhaps because of the mention of _getting back_, and, by doing so, leaving Konoha again, and she blinks them away. "Yeah. I should."

They lie down next to each other, silent once again, and Sakura wraps her arms around herself and _hates _it. Hates how she's feeling about Itachi, how she remembers the almost dizzying feeling of his lips against hers, the tentative press of their tongues, his hands tracing the curves of her body and…kami, she isn't an inexperienced virgin. That hadn't been her first encounter with sexual undertones, but perversely enough, the few minutes of contact, the way he had been touching her, had already gotten her wound up enough to want to—

Sakura shoves the thoughts away, shifting against the blankets uncomfortably. She doesn't want to think about it.

After a long time, just as she is getting ready to drift off to sleep, she hears Ino's voice, sounding faraway and just as drowsy as her own. "…Sakura?"

"Mmm?" Sakura manages not-too-coherently, wrapping the quilt more securely around herself.

Ino's question takes her off guard. "All of that other stuff aside…does he make you happy?" she asks quietly. "I mean…less lonely? Because, I mean, I think about it every day – despite everything that's happened, I have Shika and Chouji, still, and I want you to have somebody, too."

This time, a few tears do soak into the pale purple material of the quilt, and Sakura takes a few moments to answer. "Yeah," she responds, barely audibly, and then wipes her face with the back of her hand, turning on her side. "He's no…no replacement for you guys, of course, but yeah. He does."

-

_The Next Night_

-

When Sakura returns to the hotel room, it is empty. It _feels_ too empty, smells too sterile. It's too quiet and too white, and for a split second, she wishes that she hadn't gone – because things seem even harder to deal with now.

She and Ino had both cried, predictably enough. Even Chouji had teared up a little, and Shikamaru hugged her close for a few moments, murmuring something soft about how she needed to take care and not let anything too troublesome happen to herself. Inoichi had snuck her to the border, and when there, he had swept her off her feet in a rib-crushing embrace that had felt too much like losing her father all over again.

Sakura feels more numb and limp than anything else, right now, so much that she can't spare more than a few thoughts for Itachi, who is probably getting dinner or something. Still, she unzips her boots and crawls onto the bed, stretching out on the unfamiliar covers with her back to the door.

-

Itachi is distracted enough by his own thoughts not to sense her faint chakra signature before he opens the door and walks into the room quietly. Sakura is the first thing he sees, of course – lying motionlessly on her side, her back to him. She looks uninjured, and the breath leaves his body in a faint, almost inaudible sigh.

He closes the door softly and crosses the room, sitting on the opposite edge of the bed as he studies her, almost warily. The stretch of bare legs exposed by her short skirt draws his attention for a few moments, and upon realizing what he is doing, Itachi forces himself to look away, before clearing his throat sharply.

The sudden sound does its part to rouse Sakura from her light doze, and Itachi watches impassively as she twists her legs under her, pushing herself up into a sitting position. She is obviously still drowsy, as she runs a hand through her tangled hair, and then rubs her eyes. Her gaze lights on him in the next moment, and for the barest of seconds, an emotion all too familiar – one that he hasn't seen directed at him for a long time, from her – courses through it.

Wariness.

Something inside Itachi tightens, and he looks away from her, before rising and walking to the darkened window. His fingers brush the materials of the curtain, and he sees Sakura's vague reflection in the glass window. Looking slightly sleep-tousled still, and watching him intently, carefully.

"I apologize for my earlier indiscretion," Itachi says stiffly, his gaze never leaving the window. "I give you my word that it will never happen again."

Sakura blinks, startled, and for a moment, she almost gets up to join him, almost tells him that there's no need for him to promise something like that – that it'll be all right between them, if they just take things slower—

And she almost asks him _why_, but then she takes another look at the tension in his posture, the almost-uncertainty in his dark gray eyes, when he finally dares to look back at her; _ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies._

Sakura asks him no questions.

"All right," she says in a small voice, looking down at the weave of the blankets beneath her.

Itachi inclines his head a fraction of an inch, and wonders if he should regret something that has just happened.

They do not talk for the rest of the night, and finally fall asleep a careful three feet away from each other.

* * *

_to be continued_

_

* * *

_

Wow. This chapter was…difficult to write. I hope that you guys didn't mind the Itachi/Shisui stuff, so much – everything that happened between them, in their relationship, is what has shaped Itachi into the man that he currently is. Speaking of which, a lot of the elements of Itachi and Shisui's relationship were borrowed from the absolutely amazing Jodi Picoult novel, entitled _The Pact_. I strongly encourage you guys to go out and read it, if you haven't already. It's one of the best pieces of fiction that I've ever read.

As always, any and all comments would be very much appreciated, and if you have questions, feel free to ask. :)


	11. Old Wounds

_As always, thank you so very much to everybody who was kind enough to review. :)_

_Ugh, so, I guess the Unofficial Handbook was wrong and Shisui really is a guy after all? D: I felt so incredibly stupid. See, I've never read the manga or anything – all the firsthand experience I have with Naruto was when I watched a few Shippuden episodes on youtube back in like 2006, and various stuff I gather off the internet. That's it. Sorry about the confusion, guys. Still, I rather like my girl!Shisui. 3 _

_-_

_Chapter Eleven: Old Wounds_

_-_

The bar is too loud – it is just almost eight in the morning, and it is _already_ filled with approximately one hundred obnoxiously loud, ill-mannered people. Because of this, it feels even warmer than mid-April should rightfully feel, and on top of that, it is too smoky inside and smells far too strongly of burning sausages, and—

His eggs are runny.

Damn it all to _hell_.

Sasuke Uchiha runs a hand through his hair irritably, fingers tangling in his shoulder-length ponytail as he tosses his fork down on the rickety wooden table. His companions do not seem to be experiencing the same difficulties, unpleasantly enough – Juugo is sitting across from him, quite contentedly working through a formidable pile of soggy, syrup-covered wrinkles, and Suigetsu and Karin, in one of their _very_ rare peaceful moments, are sharing a suspicious-looking omelet of epic proportions, while simultaneously poring over an unmarked dark brown book.

"…Huh," Suigetsu comments, after a while, to their general table. "Damn Bingo Book's out of date – it says that your brother is still at large, Sasuke."

Sasuke says nothing at this, but his eyes narrow slightly as he looks into the distance.

Suigetsu almost sets the book down and goes to look for a more recent edition, but then Karin stills his hand. "Wait, stupid – take a look at the date on the spine," she says impatiently, while gathering her flame-red hair into a messy ponytail. "That's this month's edition. It's not out of date at all."

The two of them, and Juugo, look toward Sasuke instinctively, but the Uchiha merely turns away, curling his fingers around his glass of chilled water. "It's probably just an error," he replies tersely.

Karin shrugs one shoulder noncommitally, and Juugo looks like he wants to say something more, but then visibly changes his mind, before joining Suigetsu and Karin in their perusal of the bingo book. Suigetsu looks similarly unconvinced, but rolls his eyes slightly and continues flipping through the pages, offering such sage commentary as, "Ugly bastard, that one,"echoed by a shocked, "Ugh, Suigetsu, I actually agree with you…" and a subsequent "…Be nice, Karin…"

After a while, Sasuke mostly tunes their voices out, his thoughts, as always, drifting far away, even though he keeps listening for anything that they could find beneficial, just in case—

After a few more minutes of this, Suigetsu, Juugo, and Karin's usual commentary is disturbed in favor of a low whistle by Suigetsu. "Damn," he says slowly, and very appreciately. "I wouldn't mind having some of th—"

Karin cuts him off abruptly with a sharp elbow to the ribs and a poisonous glare. "Hey, Suigetsu, can you _try_ not to be such a chauvinistic pig?" she asks, scowling. "She's not a piece of _meat_, you know."

For his part, Suigetsu just smirks rather mischievously. "Why, dear Karin, I think you're just jealous."

Karin snorts inelegantly, throwing her feet up onto Juugo's deserted chair. "Don't call me _dear_. And I am so _not_ jealous of…that," she pronounces, waving a hand at the book. "Although I have to admit that those boots are to die for – she's got good taste."

In unison, Suigetsu and Karin look up at Juugo, waiting for his evaluation, while Sasuke just lifts his glass of water to his lips—

Juugo leans over the back of Suigetsu and Karin's chairs, looking more closely at the offered picture. "I like her hair," he says softly. "It's so…pink. And pretty."

And, upon hearing this, Sasuke slams his glass down on the wooden table so hard that the fragile glass breaks, while choking on his water. Violently.

Havoc reigns over the members of Team Hawk for a few moments, and nothing calms down until Sasuke finally manages to convince his worried teammates that he is, indeed, just _fine._ The physical evidence says otherwise, though – he is deathly pale, and his bloodline limit seems to have activated itself of its own accord; piercing crimson against his ashen skin. He nods at the bingo book wordlessly, the command evident in his eyes, and after exchanging somewhat nonplussed looks, Karin and Suigetsu hand it over to him.

Silence falls among Team Hawk as their leader studies the full-length picture of Sakura Haruno (dressed to kill, in more ways than one), and her subsequent pages of extensive information. One of his hands clenches into a white-knuckled fist, and in the next moment, Sasuke flings the book back down on the table, the abrupt release of tension making Juugo, Karin, and Suigetsu all jump.

Disregarding his untouched eggs, Sasuke stands up, extricating a handful of notes and coins from one pocket and slamming them down on the table. His eyes are no longer swirling with the Sharingan, but shadowed with some sort of dark purpose, and he looks at his team expectantly. "Let's go."

Team Hawk follows without question, all of them quietly and internally combating various degrees of curiosity, but Suigetsu is the only one to voice their unanimous thoughts, a few minutes later, as they disappear into the shelter granted by a nearby forest. "Uh, Sasuke…" he ventures, almost timidly. "What are we doing?"

Sasuke turns to look at him, and Suigetsu almost cringes at the expression on his face; next to him, he feels Karin do the same. "We need," Sasuke says, very softly, "to find her."

-

At that exact moment, one hundred and ten miles away, Sakura Haruno's eyes snap wide open.

It takes her a moment to realize that she is shaking. Trembling slightly, even though it isn't cold at all, and the blankets are pulled up to her chin, her fingers curled rigidly around the top of them. It takes a conscious effort for her to release her death grip on the covers, but still, the occasional tremor or two runs the length of her body. Sakura can't remember any unsettling dreams, but the back of her orange shirt is chilly with cold sweat, and she takes a few deep, steadying breaths, trying to calm herself as best as she can.

This proves to be an entirely futile pursuit, and eventually, Sakura sits up quietly, pushing the covers off herself and sliding out of the bed. Strangely, Itachi is still asleep, and she can't help but notice that he had turned onto his side sometime during the night, facing her side of the bed, and curled into himself somewhat, one hand gripping the sheets in a white-knuckled fist. The combination of the unusual pose, along with the way his hair is falling over his face so haphazardly, makes him look like such a disarming mix of troubled and actually _vulnerable_ that it gives her pause for a moment.

Forcing herself to look away, Sakura grabs her bag on the way to the bathroom and shuts the door behind her. Her hands are shaking slightly, still, and she can't figure out why. It takes her a few moments to put a name to this unsettling feeling, as she sets her clean, customary outfit on the bathroom sink, and strips Naruto's pajamas off, before climbing into the blessedly spacious shower stall and tugging on the knob until the jets of soothing, warm water begin to wash over her.

Her mother used to say that it was the feeling that somebody would get if somebody walked over their grave. Sakura remembers rolling her eyes at this old adage and telling her that it made literally _no_ sense whatsoever, but now, she thinks that she finally might understand what it means – and hopefully, it's not some kind of bad omen. Because at this point, that's pretty much the last thing she needs. Although, to be honest, she's having a hard time thinking about how things could get any worse at this point, on top of already missing Konoha and Ino, Shikamaru, and Chouji so much that it hurts all over again, like a wound that had scabbed over, and then, without warning, the scab had been ripped off, leaving the cut to bleed afresh. Which is pretty terrible enough on its own, and then there's also the added issue of things getting all weird with Itachi—

Sakura actually moans aloud out of utter dismay, wrapping her arms around her dripping body. _Itachi. _Where to start?

She squeezes a handful of shampoo into her outstretched hand and then begins working it into her hair almost viciously. For the kami's sake, it's not like this is some stupid crush, not like the thought-it-was _love_ – Inner Sakura spits the word in the privacy of her mind – that she had given Sasuke, or even anything close to her confused feelings for Naruto, which began after their expedition to save Gaara, and only escalated from there, culminating in what they had done on the last night he had spent in Konoha…

Sakura forces the thought away, even as she sighs almost involuntarily. No. Her attraction to Itachi is purely physical, and she can't even put a place to where it had first started. At first, she had been too scared of him to notice things like _that _(despite such instances as their encounter in the broom closet of that one museum, the memory of which sends almost pleasurable thrills down her spine, now), but after they had first started traveling together…but it isn't like she had chosen to feel that way, either. As a matter of fact, Sakura had tried her best to stop thinking such traitorous thoughts entirely – and she is a kunoichi first, yes, but she couldn't and can't deny the part of her that is just a sixteen-year-old girl and all too susceptible to such matters. And not only is Itachi the only male she is in regular contact with, but he is undeniably attractive, as well.

The water is too cold, now, and Sakura winces as shampoo gets into her eyes. She would have been perfectly happy to continue their partnership as was, simply ignoring such inconsequential impulses on her part; after all, she is perfectly capable of maintaining a professional relationship, regardless of any distractions – and they were doing just fine, too! She had begun to get used to him, and vice versa, and hell, she feels confident enough to say that Itachi had started to…well, care for her, a little. _Like_ her, actually.

Sakura scowls wrathfully as she rubs the stinging shampoo out of her thoroughly irritated eyes. But _no._ Inexplicably enough and out of utterly nowhere, Itachi just _had_ to go and decide that he liked her a little _too_ much, at the most completely inconvenient time, and what did he do about it? Instead of bringing up the issue in a sensible, rational conversation, he had just…made out with her. Felt her up, even. And damn near gave her a heart attack in the process, in more ways than one.

And, to make things even worse – Sakura sighs despairingly – she had run away, when he had tried to talk to her about it. Just…fled. But she had been totally overwhelmed by what had just happened, and justifiably so. During her last night in Konoha, she had spared one moment to think about Itachi, as she had been drifting off to sleep…if she had remembered correctly, she was looking forward to getting back for one reason only: to get some answers regarding what had happened between them.

Which hadn't really worked out all too well.

Sakura tilts her head back under the flow of water, letting it nurse her slowly-growing headache. She can't decide whether to bring it up with him or not, and she grimaces as she realizes what a horribly awkward conversation that would prove to be.

But…why?

That's what she can't figure out – why would _Itachi_, of all people, kiss her out of nowhere (she really didn't think that he had those kinds of feelings toward her; in all honesty, she hadn't even thought that he was capable of such feelings toward _anybody_), and then, the next time they saw each other, promise to never do it again?

_It's enough to make a girl go insane,_ Sakura thinks sourly, and even the feeling of her luxurious strawberry soap against her cooled skin does nothing to calm her frazzled nerves. After turning the knob straight to the _cold_ side, she allows herself to fume in silence for a long while. This entire business is downright irrational, and such is her personality that she just doesn't like such things in the least.

It is only ten minutes later, once she has managed to calm down somewhat, that Sakura runs her hands through her wet hair, closing her eyes. _Why,_ she had asked herself earlier.

For the same reasons that she finds herself attracted to him, perhaps.

Sakura realizes, then, that she has known Itachi – _really_ known him, not just known of the atrocities he has committed, and later, of the immense sacrifices that he has undertaken – since January. Since the cold winter night that he had pulled her into his arms in that shadowed forest, and saved her from certain death at the hands of the Root hunters. And in these four months, despite his general cynically quiet nature, she has come to learn just what makes him tick. That Itachi is definitely not a morning person, and, therefore, he just cannot function without at least two cups of tea as soon as he wakes up. That he has a seemingly irrational phobia of touch, that he once saved a kitten, that his favorite food is dango, and that, on the rare occasion that he actually carries on a conversation, said conversation is so filled with sarcastic appositives that one literally feels _exhausted_ after the conclusion of the verbal exchange.

And these feel a lot like trivial, random little facts, but Sakura sighs at the belated knowledge that these are what make him human. Not just the ruthlessly efficient killing machine, one of the two most dangerous shinobi in Fire Country history, or the Akatsuki member and the self-sacrificing double agent – but underneath all of that, just somebody else who is as painfully _human_ as she is. They are so very different (worlds apart) in every single way, but just as susceptible to the same kinds of loneliness and fear, and the same wants and hopes and needs, that every single individual experiences.

Be that as it may, Sakura struggles with the idea of Itachi actually being attracted to her, for whatever reasons. _Even if that is the case, though_, she thinks, frowning – _it's not like it can go anywhere, right?_ After all, their current situation really isn't conducive to…dating, or whatever. It would be completely impossible to carry out a normal relationship in these circumstances; besides, she doubts that either of them, as they are right now, could even _try._

She bites back yet another sigh, shutting off the shower rather glumly and beginning to dry herself off. Maybe it – _she_ – was just something that Itachi needed to get out of his system. The thought isn't a pleasant one, yes (actually, it's almost enough to make her want to throw all pretenses of social pleasantries aside and punch him through a few solid concrete walls), but right now, it does seem like the likeliest possibility. And if that's the case, it means she can go right back to pretending that nothing happened between them.

Sakura glowers at her reflection in the mirror as she zips up her usual crimson vest, before heading out the door. As her luck would have it, in the next second, she almost collides with the object of her most recent thoughts, which happens to be pacing back and forth, holding a cup of steaming peppermint tea and looking just as unsettled as she feels.

There is a highly awkward moment, where Itachi somehow manages to keep the tea from spilling all over her, while Sakura apologizes in as many different ways as she can think of, and at the same time, he attempts to assure her that it is, indeed, all right.

After this, there is an even _more _awkward moment, when both of them fall silent at exactly the same second and stare at each other. And like the brave kunoichi that she is, Sakura promptly looks at the floor, mumbles something about getting breakfast and hoping waffles would be all right for both of them, and then gets the _hell_ out of there, trying her best to maintain her composure as she does so.

Once she has made it a safe distance down the hallway, Sakura collapses against the nearest wall, running her fingers through her hair despairingly.

Pretending like it never happened?

Yeah. _Much_ easier than it sounds.

-

A few miles after crossing the border that the Fire Country shares with the Land of Lightning forces Sakura to conclude – well, the land is dark forest-green, like Konoha, yes, but so far, it seems to be disturbingly similar to marshland; wet, and depressingly misty and foggy. It's also utterly deserted thus far, save for a few aged wooden signs denoting the (extremely long) distance to the next town. Sakura doesn't know whether it's the strange weather and new surroundings that has triggered it, but the remnants of that spine-tingling, eerie feeling that she had woken up with are beginning to re-surface, setting all of her nerves on edge.

Beside her, Itachi steps on a twig, and the sharp noise actually makes Sakura jump, her muscles tensing from head to toe. He gives her a nonplussed look, and before, he wouldn't have thought twice about asking about the reason for her discomfort, but—

Sakura saves him from any further internal debate by shuddering slightly, wrapping her arms around herself. "This place is creepy," she decides, stepping over a tangle of vines that trail over the path. "And I don't like it."

Itachi can't help but smirk slightly, inclining his head toward the vast outline of mountain ranges in the center of the country, cutting strangely into the purple-gray sky. "Can you not appreciate its beauty?" he inquires rhetorically, allowing his fingers to trail against the damp moss that covers the bark of a nearby tree.

"No," Sakura retorts, although she tilts her head to the side thoughtfully, before narrowing her eyes at her partner, and then the country around them. "…But does seem like the kind of place _you_ would be attracted to – um, I mean…_like_…or, tolerate, or…" she scowls; now fully abandoning the idea of the stupid extended metaphor. "Hey, maybe you just need to _get your irrational fascination with it out of your system_, right?"

Now somewhat at a loss and rather failing at picking up on the deeper meaning of this conversation, Itachi directs a cautious glance down at his partner. "…Perhaps?" he acquiesces, looking rather disconcerted.

For reasons that he doubts he will ever understand, Sakura glares at him and stalks ahead on the narrow path, her hips taking on an unquestionably irritated sway as she does so.

…Not that he's looking, or anything.

At this point, Itachi fleetingly wonders if he should just quit while he's ahead and strangle himself with one of these conveniently located hanging vines.

-

_One Hour Later_

-

"Mercenaries."

Sakura freezes in place, turning around to face him, her irritation forgotten. "…What?"

They have been walking for an hour and a half straight, and their silence and isolation has seemed unbroken – but then, she supposes that Itachi would have more experience in sensing such things than she does. He catches up to her in a few steps, his posture tense and alert. The tomoe of the Sharingan are swirling slowly as he scans the surrounding marshland, and Sakura looks away involuntarily; that will never cease to disturb her. "Are you sure it's not one of the Root teams?" she asks quietly, even as she flips a shuriken out of the tiny pack tied around her upper thigh.

"Yes," Itachi responds, almost absentmindedly. "There are five of them."

Sakura cringes involuntarily. "I – _five_? Why so many?"

"You may be aware that the leaders of the shinobi villages in Fire and Wind Country contract privately with teams of active shinobi in other countries, so that they can aid in tracking down particularly troublesome missing-nin that cross country lines in order to evade their teams of trackers," Itachi's tone is soft and detached, and with a light tug of her wrist, he leads her off the path. "These particular individuals are an active Cloud squad who are likely performing this mission for some sort of extra financial gain." Even in the gravity of their current situation, he spares a moment to give her the slightest of smirks. "You seem to be quite popular, Sakura."

"You don't know that they're after me!" Sakura retorts heatedly, almost tripping over a moldy fallen log. "Besides, I don't know why Danzou wants me back so badly!"

"You're the most wanted Konoha missing-nin at the moment – logically, there is hardly anybody else who this team could be in pursuit of. The Godaime's other apprentice is likely also being hunted down, but considering her greater age, experience, and network, Danzou would consider you to be easier prey," Itachi replies calmly. "Even he cannot sustain a successful shinobi village without a single medic-nin."

This time, Sakura does hear the faintest echo of activity in the rest of the bog, and her eyes narrow slightly. "We should split up and incapitate them," she says decisively.

This statement is rewarded by an expression of outright incredulity flickering across Itachi's normally impassive face, but all of a sudden, he pales drastically, looking sharply to their east, instead. His grip on her wrist tightens, and forgetting the need to be quiet, Sakura gasps and pulls away, narrowly avoiding stumbling into a puddle of mud. "What the hell?" she hisses.

"…Nothing," Itachi replies tersely, glancing around their surroundings again, and she notices that he suddenly looks very shaken – almost as if he had seen a ghost. "It was nothing."

"Well?" Sakura asks impatiently, directing a wary look over her shoulder. "What are we—"

Her voice trails off abruptly as Itachi pulls her back to him hard, so that she collides with his chest, and then, before she can say a word, he presses what she _thinks_ is a quick, close-mouthed kiss to the place where her forehead meets her hairline, although it could have just been an accidental collision of his lips and her forehead—

"Be careful," Itachi instructs softly, and the second he releases her upper arm is the very same moment that he simply vanishes into the shadows, and she catches sight of a few scattered, barely visible, particles of ash that are slowly drifting east, borne by the wind.

Sakura just stands stock-still for a few moments, feeling probably the most astonished that she has ever felt in her entire life and wondering what the _hell _just happened there, but then she hears the distant echo of voices. Forcing herself to get back into gear, she weaves through the nearby trees, following the sounds that she hears, and stopping only when she can just barely see the Cloud team through the canopy of vines and overhanging leaves and branches. Making sure that she is as quiet as possible, she pulls out one of her shuriken, again – her aim is nowhere near as good as Tenten's, but she isn't completely hopeless at medium-range accuracy. There is one shinobi who has strayed to the back of the pack, lagging enough behind everybody else that if she picks him off, nobody would notice, and she tries to ignore the fact that he looks younger than his teammates; he's built kind of like Kiba Inuzuka, so he's probably not any older than she is, and—

Sakura's grip on the shuriken loosens, her resolve weakening. He is so young, likely just a chunin, and he's only doing his duty to his country, just like she always had. And she cannot find it within herself to _kill_ him for that.

This is unquestionably dangerous and _stupid_ to boot, but Sakura makes sure her chakra is completely and totally masked, before casting a concealment genjutsu over her physical appearance – which makes her look almost invisible, in essence – and silently following the team of Cloud-nin. Like Itachi had said, there are five of them – all male, but aside from that, they remind her somewhat of how different working in teams in Konoha had been, and she bites her lip, silently directing her mind to _focus_. Now is definitely not the time to be having stupid fits of nostalgia. Staying absolutely quiet and making sure she doesn't step on a twig or trip over a vine or slip in a puddle of mud, is hard enough, and for this, she needs to have every little particle of chakra that she has trained onto them with absolute intentness.

It takes her a few moments for her to realize that Itachi had used one of his mysterious and absolutely, incomprehensibly large arrays of techniques to create a false trail for the Cloud team, and Sakura crosses her fingers behind her back. She needs them to stop and gather into a relatively close cluster, and her heart is beating so fast that she has to actively concentrate on slowing it. Brute force, intellectual strategizing, and the ability to sufficiently predict her opponent's moves and retaliate while targeting their weaknesses are the techniques that power the way she fights. She is almost completely hopeless at non-medical ninjutsu, and even though she can automatically dispel almost any genjutsu that is used against her and cast mid-level ones on herself, projecting complex illusionary techniques onto a large group of people is something that she has absolutely no experience in.

Sakura can't help but wince. What an absolutely lovely scenario in which to be learning a new skill. Great.

She tries to remain patient, though, and after another mile or so, the leader of the Cloud team stops them, holding out an arm. They gather around him, conversing in hushed tones, and Sakura wipes her suddenly damp palms on her skirt, ignoring the nervous fluttering of her heart. This had _better_ work, because if not…

Within the next second, she learns that casting a genjutsu is a lot harder than it looks, and simultaneously, she gains even more respect for people like Kurenai and Itachi, who are extraordinarily proficient at it. She doesn't want to envision anything gruesome or painful for the Cloud team, so she just thinks of blank, neverending white spaces and empty walls and hallways that go nowhere, and focuses on weaving the image into her chakra and spreading it in a thick blanket out into the surrounding area.

Since this is her first time, the physical and mental strain on her entire body is immense, and Sakura watches with detached eyes from her position behind a large tree, as the team's eyes all begin to slowly glaze over while they stare into nothing. They will be immersed in the illusion for about ten minutes, at most, at which point she has programmed the genjutsu to knock them into unconsciousness.

Well…hopefully.

Sakura is so distracted by her own thoughts as she slowly withdraws the rest of her chakra and begins to edge away that, at first, she doesn't notice the young man from earlier – still hovering at the corner of the group, nearest to her – begin to move. His motions are slow and have an almost sluggish quality, as if he is fighting through water, and too late, she realizes that he must have the same kind of ability as her, although on a slightly lesser scale. But he is fast with the kunai that had been near at hand, in the pocket of his gray flak vest, and by the time Sakura fully realizes the magnitude of her mistake, it is already too late.

He throws the knife, with accuracy and speed that could match Tenten's, before finally succumbing to her genjutsu, and Sakura doesn't even realize how exactly she dodges the weapon. It had been aimed at her heart, but she had twisted out of the way, on instinct – and now, she collapses against the bark of a nearby tree, gasping for breath and biting her lip to keep silent. There is a searing pain against her left arm, from shoulder to elbow, and her first medical instinct is to look down sharply and evaluate the wound. It is long enough to make her head spin at the very sight, but thankfully not too deep or messy; a clean cut. But the pain makes her grit her teeth, closing her eyes as she feels herself weave in and out of consciousness, even as she tries to lift a chakra-covered right hand and glide it down the length of the wound. Some part of her is able to clinically evaluate that a large cut like this _should_ hurt, yes, but this is causing her more pain than it rightfully should. Burning is the only way to fully describe it; like every inch of skin, and the tissue and flesh beneath, which the kunai had come in contact with, has been bathed in a vat of battery acid.

The last time she had experienced something as agonizing as this was—

Sakura blinks. Her chakra wavers.

_Sasori? _

Her memory blanks out again, as she tries to heal herself, but the pain is making it too difficult to concentrate, though, and all she can do is clean up the ragged edges of the cut a little as she screws her eyes shut.

She fights unconsciousness valiantly, even as she lapses in and out of it for the next few minutes, and in the next second, Sakura is vaguely conscious of something else in front of her. Cool fingers, twisting against hers and gently lifting her to her feet. She thinks she makes a tiny sound of protest, trying to pull away, but Itachi doesn't let go, and then, her eyes finally open, revealing slightly blurred vision – the dark green of the swampland around them, and the black and red of Itachi's Akatsuki cloak. Sakura can't help but cringe when her body registers the feeling of something slowly, steadily dripping from her arm, her fingers stiffening in automatic response to the re-registering of the white-hot pain lancing up and down her upper left arm.

"I was under the impression that I told you to be careful."

Even in her slightly disoriented state, Sakura doesn't fail to notice that his voice is a little more strained than usual, and she even manages to glare up at him hard. "I was a little bit distracted at the moment, considering what had happened immediately before," she returns sharply.

For once, he does not have a reply.

-

It doesn't take long for them to find a stream. It isn't overly large, but it is clean, and that is what matters most.

Itachi can tell that Sakura resents every moment of this, by the rather poisonous glares that she is sending his way every moment or so, but kami, this isn't easy for him, either.

"I _will_ bleed on you," Sakura hisses, narrowing her eyes and trying to back up a step, "if you even think about coming any closer."

…And not _only_ because of his partner's overly stubborn, prideful, and defensive attitude, either.

Completely unimpressed by this admittedly somewhat disturbing threat, Itachi steps closer to her, decidedly ignoring the way Sakura flinches away from him, before pressing one hand to the small of her back, aiming to ease her to the floor. But the sudden touch, in combination with a fresh stab of pain from her still-bleeding wound, makes her knees buckle out of sheer dizziness alone, and much to her displeasure, when she recovers from the momentary blackout, she is on her knees, leaning limply against a tree. Itachi is between her and the nearby stream, staring at her with a kind of intentness that makes her blush, even though his gaze is directed solely at the long cut on her upper arm.

She tries to say something, but Itachi beats her to the metaphorical punch, raising an eyebrow thoughtfully. "The blade was poisoned."

The word takes a moment to register, and Sakura takes a deep breath, forcing herself to focus on re-harnessing her chakra and bringing it back up to her hand. It's poison – she can deal with poison. Sasori used it, and she had created a flawless poison extraction jutsu, the same one she had successfully tested on Kankuro, so—

Then her reminiscing and chakra-harnessing attempts abruptly trail off, as a drastically larger problem presents itself, and Sakura fixes the cause of the problem with an absolutely aghast look. "What the _hell_ are you doing?" she screeches, completely and utterly horrified, as she flinches away from Itachi's hand, as if burned.

His eyes narrow, and for a moment, the _very_ familiar jutsu hovering at the tips of his fingers – the one that exactly mirrors the one on Sakura's right hand – flickers somewhat. "It should be self-explanatory," he replies, and surprisingly, his usual calm tone sounds somewhat forced.

Sakura shakes her head incredulously. "You copied _my_ technique without my permission?"

"…Yes."

By rights, she knows that she shouldn't be feeling quite so indignant; after all, it is kind of what he _does_, after all, but still, there's something about his copying the technique that _she_ had created on her own, that is just unnerving. "Well, I can do it myself," she replies defensively, reaching toward the sluggishly bleeding wound on her arm.

Only to have her hand intercepted and pressed down firmly to her side by Itachi, and Sakura's breath catches involuntarily at how close this sudden action brings them, almost nose-to-nose, so that she can even count every one of his long, sooty eyelashes – if she leans forward just a few inches, they could even—

For one moment, their eyes meet, and it is all too painfully and awkwardly obvious that both of them are thinking about, and remembering, the same thing. But then Itachi pulls away too fast, looking off fixedly into the distance and clearing his throat once, and even she can clearly read the expression on his face. Trying her best to ignore the fact that she is now probably blushing very heatedly, Sakura swallows over her suddenly dry throat and goes for the long gash on her left arm, nevertheless.

"Don't." Itachi's tone is steady, again, and even though he doesn't try to hold her hand back this time, his voice is firm enough that it actually gives her pause for a moment.

"But—"

He frowns at the stubborn kunoichi's last attempt at defense. "You aren't very bright, are you?"

Sakura's jaw actually drops this time, and, shocked into speechlessness, she offers no rebuttal as Itachi takes his chakra-covered hand and slowly begins to ease it from her shoulder down to her elbow; his hand hovers a fraction of an inch above her skin, and she _still_ has to bite her lip to keep from shivering, damn it. She doesn't want to look directly at him, too afraid of something like before, but then, she can't help but give a slight, quivering sigh as her head falls back against the tree. The awful burning sensation is finally dissipating as he painstakingly extracts the poison, leaving the skin and tissue of her upper left arm once again feeling somewhat whole.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sakura catches a glimpse of Itachi's expression – he seems to be effortlessly working the poison extraction technique that she had created, without even a single flaw in his execution. Strangely enough, it looks like his talent in performing the technique goes deeper than just the mimicking abilities granted by his bloodline limit; it feels like he has some kind of natural capacity for this as well. _Of course,_ she thinks, a little sourly, _he just would have to be perfect at medical jutsu, too. _

But still, she allows herself to relax fractionally, finally convinced that she is very much in capable hands. The entire process of siphoning the poison from her arm only takes about two or so minutes, but that is enough to make a noticeable difference in the way her arm feels.

"Better?" Itachi asks as he draws his hand back, allowing the jutsu to slowly fade from his fingertips.

It kind of kills her a little to admit it, but Sakura nods a little, brushing a few locks of hair back from her eyes with her other hand. "Thank you," she mumbles. "I'm just going to clean it off and disinfect it now, so I can finish healing it and stuff…"

Itachi gives her a nonplussed look, although he just barely manages to restrain himself from stilling her hand. In the end, he says nothing, and Sakura can only watch blankly as he reaches into an inner pocket of his cloak, before withdrawing a dark square of soft-looking cloth. It is only when he leans over a fraction of an inch, immersing the cloth in the stream, that she realizes what he intends to do, and she scowls on principle. "I can take care of it myself!" she protests hotly.

Itachi lets his gaze sweep her impassively. "Your genjutsu, while not a completely worthless first attempt, was rather energy-inefficient. Your chakra will burn out if you attempt any serious healing techniques right now."

As he watches Sakura struggle to come up with ways to effectively argue this point, he allows himself to wonder whether she really finds it quite so horrible to let him take care of her, on this one instance – after all, he cannot count the amount of times she has healed him after various skirmishes of some sort. But Itachi remains silent, and he pulls the damp cloth out of the stream, folds it in half once, and slowly, carefully draws it down the length of the cut. This time, Sakura can't keep herself from sighing as relaxes against the tree, forgetting her initial protests; the fresh, slightly cold water makes her arm sting, yes, but it feels good at the same time. One of his hands is supporting her lower arm, lightly curled around her elbow, as the other cleans the wound, and she lets her eyelids flutter shut.

Sakura doesn't know why he is doing this for her, but being taken care of like this is an undeniably pleasant sensation. For the past two years, she has been the medic-nin, the one who has healed and cared for everybody else first and admittedly put her own needs last. She likes the feeling of independence that comes with that, so rightfully; she _should_ be extremely busy hating this entire experience with a passion. Which she most certainly isn't doing. It's not like she's stupid enough to believe that the gesture is borne out of any actual tender feelings or whatever; she would do the same for him, regardless of the situation…or what had happened between them on any prior occasion. Looking out for each other is just what partners are supposed to do, after all.

Still, Itachi's touch is gentler than it needs to be, and it takes a conscious effort on her part not to enjoy it. In an attempt to get her mind off the potentially problematic situation, she shifts a little, feeling the rasp of the bark through the back of her vest. "…Did you find it?" Sakura asks, at last.

For the first time, his steady, repetitive actions falter momentarily, even though his reply, when it comes, is in as impassive a tone as always. "I require some disinfectant cream…and, what I was I supposed to be finding?"

At this, Sakura actually cracks an eye open and gives him an impatient look. "There should be a container in my bag – the small, clear one with the blue lid. And you were supposed to be finding whatever the hell it was that set you on edge so badly in the forest earlier, remember?"

Itachi hesitates visibly, although to be honest, she cannot tell whether it is in discomfort from her question, or at the prospect of reaching into the unknown territory of her bag, which he has always avoided at all costs. He places an excessively large deal of stock in the idea of personal space, and perversely enough, it gives Sakura no small amount of amusement to see his displeasure at the idea of invading hers. While it _is_ true that she has a lot of personal stuff in there – namely, some extra outfits and various underclothes, the latter of which she would gladly stab herself with a blunt butter knife in order to prevent Itachi from ever seeing, her medical containers of disinfectant cream and bruise balm are relatively near the top of all the stuff, which _should_ make things okay…

This confidence gives Sakura the motivation to smile sweetly. "If you can't do it, just pass the bag over in the direction of my other hand, and I'm sure I could find it on my own—"

Predictably enough, Itachi's eyes narrow at the subtle challenge, and Sakura actually bites her lip to keep from laughing as he half-turns away, discreetly closes his eyes, and then plunges one hand into the depths of her bag. After a few moments of awkwardly groping around (in which he desperately tries not to think about the fact that his fingers brush something short and silky, several things that are most definitely scant and lacy, as well as something that feels suspiciously like strawberry pocky), he finally extricates the container of disinfectant cream, looking rather pained as he holds it out to her. "Here."

For a moment, he can _swear_ that Sakura smirks very slightly as she offers her arm to him once again. Shizune had helped her brew this, almost immediately before she had left Konoha, and it still smells strongly of the fresh herbs and natural astringents that they had used, which means that it has kept its potency for the past eight months or so. It's enough to make her wince when Itachi places a small amount on his fingers and starts rubbing it into her arm, with slow, thorough strokes. After just a few moments of this, she begins grimacing for another reason entirely – naturally, the feeling of his firm, calloused palms touching her like this brings back memories of what had happened a few days ago, and—

_Not_ _going to think about it,_ Sakura reminds herself determinedly. In a rather sorry attempt to distract herself from the memories that are currently repeating and rewinding in agonizingly slow motion, she tilts her head back toward the sky, feeling the moisture in the air. "You never answered my question," she reminds him mercilessly – it takes a hell of a _lot_ to startle Itachi, of all people, and from what she had seen of his expression earlier, something had definitely set his nerves on edge.

Again, he takes a little while to reply, as he withdraws a length of bandages from the roll that had – _thankfully_ – fallen out of Sakura's bag on its own accord; he doesn't think he can really withstand another ordeal like that again. "It was nothing," Itachi says at last, after he severs a piece and then begins to wrap it around the cleaned and disinfected cut with his customary precision.

Sakura watches him through veiled eyelashes, taking note of the unusually evasive answer. His head is inclined a little over her arm, so that his long, dark bangs obscure his eyes and most of what she can see of his face. As if sensing her scrutiny, he carefully finishes wrapping the bandages, and again, to her eternal amusement – he ties the loose ends in a small, neat bow, retaining his completely blank expression as he does so, looking back up at her. "You can merely say that it was a case of mistaken identity, Sakura," he clarifies softly, the expression in his eyes utterly inscrutable.

At first, Sakura has nothing to say to this, and she just tilts her head, puzzled – who else is out here, anyway? Who else that _he_ would know? And, aside from that weird feeling she's had all day; she hasn't sensed anything too significantly out of sorts, either—

The whirring of her mind is abruptly interrupted, of all things, by a sudden, intense wave of exhaustion that seems to sweep over her all at once. The medic in Sakura realizes it as a response to the trauma and extensive blood loss she had experienced, even with Itachi's exceptional care, but before she can even finish this thought to completion, she gives a mortifyingly tiny squeak of a yawn that actually makes her partner's mouth quirk up a little bit at the edges. "You should rest," he decrees, looking her over again. "We have no iron-rich food to help you regain your strength – sleep is the only way you will be in proper working condition by early evening."

_Proper working condition?_ Sakura fights to stifle a snort and the impulse to inform him that she isn't some kind of _toy. _"We can't afford to stop now," she counters, as practically as always. "The Cloud team will be regaining consciousness soon, and then—"

Itachi shakes his head dismissively. "I modified your genjutsu somewhat."

Upon registering this statement, Sakura's jaw actually drops out of sheer horror. "You didn't—" she begins to protest, immediately imagining the worst, and trying to pull herself into a standing position.

Itachi only gives her a quelling look. "Do you really think so little of me, Sakura?" he inquires, almost coldly.

"I - …oh." And with that, Sakura feels herself blush, and her knees buckle again, depositing her flatly against the old, mossy tree she had been leaning against. "…Sorry," she mumbles, although she can't quite bring herself to look at him.

Itachi says nothing, although a few moments later, she feels rather than sees him settle down, about a foot away from her. He is silent, as usual, a spot of black and red against the blurred, muted dark greens and browns of the surrounding swampland, and the clear crystal of the river. His eyes shine crimson, but instead of unnerving her as usual, Sakura actually feels herself relax, at his side. She will never forget that, despite and above everything else, Itachi is just plain _scary_ – but maybe she's imagining it, but there is something ever-so-slightly reassuring about his presence, today. She is not in the business of lying to herself, and she hates to acknowledge it, but…she feels safe, around him. Protected, almost.

Sakura actually has to bite back a gag at the voicing of this sentiment. Oh, it's _definitely_ the blood loss speaking. She can most definitely protect herself – she won't ever need anybody to do that for her again.

After a few more moments of silent internal ranting on this subject, Sakura yawns again, feeling her eyelids slowly grow more and more leaden. She thinks she drifts off to sleep, but then wakes up a few minutes later (even unconsciously, she had realized that something was desperately wrong), her eyes snapping open out of pure, unadulterated shock.

"Sorry," she apologizes hastily, dragging herself away from Itachi's shoulder. "I _so_ didn't mean to; I know how you hate the whole, uh, _touchy_ thing and all," – except here, Sakura fleetingly wonders if, after all that's happened between them, Itachi _still_ despises touching – "and, um, I sincerely apologize and stuff, and—"

Itachi watches the thoroughly drowsy and frightened girl babble on incoherently for another few moments and then, when he has tired of it, simply lets his fingers close around her wrist as he pulls her back to him. His movements and touch are carefully clinical and matter-of-fact, never lingering for even a fraction of a second too long, but still, Sakura's eyes are wide as she feels her cheek collide with his shoulder all over again. "What—" she manages weakly, now feeling even more disoriented than before.

"Just go to sleep," Itachi instructs, a little stiffly. "You need it."

_Oh, kami, of all the times for him to develop a sense of consideration, _Sakura glowers unhappily, even as she subconsciously angles herself a little closer to him – he's much more comfortable than the tree. Itachi responds by shifting his arm a little, letting the side of her body rest against his chest, her head nestling underneath the line of his jaw. Even though she _should_ be tired enough for this to have no effect on her, the simple action, dismayingly enough, effectively sets her hormones on fire.

Sakura is rather busy marveling at the sheer novelty of the situation – his scent, the feeling of his lean muscles underneath hers, his long, silky ponytail half-caught underneath her cheek, the steady rhythm of the pulse at the side of his throat against her forehead and temples…

_Please, merciful higher powers, kill me now,_ Sakura pleads desperately, upon realizing what she's doing, immediately after this latest observation. For the kami's sake, she sounds like…like…some kind of _lovesick teenage girl._

Oh, the _horror._

-

A few minutes later, Itachi finally glances down at her – she is curled against his chest, now sleeping very soundly, her bangs having fluttered down over the front of her face in a way that is too dangerously close to _endearing_ for his tastes. Except, then he realizes that, for some completely incomphrensible reason, Sakura is actually scowling in her sleep, looking so irritated that he half expects her to sit bolt upright and snap at him for some trivial reason or another, at any given moment.

He shouldn't have done this; he shouldn't have _offered_ this. He should have known the effect it would have on him.

Sakura presses herself a little closer in her sleep, even as she frowns more intensely. Lightly, tentatively, Itachi brushes the few strands of hair stirred by the wind out of her face, gently tucking them behind her ear, as a slow, cool breeze blows through the swamp, rippling the river ever so slightly.

-

As soon as Sakura wakes up, she realizes three things.

First, it's a little past early evening, which means that she has just overslept, which is not good. Secondly, she feels better than she has in a _long_ while – which may have something to do with the fact that she is still curled securely against Itachi, her face turned against his neck. And third…well, third…

Sakura pulls away a fraction of an inch, looking up at Itachi inquistively. He _is_ asleep – or, appears to be, at least. How very, ridiculously, utterly…novel.

Somewhat unsure of how to feel about this latest development in a string of already-confusing-enough developments, the pink-haired kunoichi untangles herself from her partner somewhat reluctantly, before standing up and stretching. Her leg muscles feel cramped and constrained after the strain of the day, and she takes one last look back at Itachi – damn it, he is just so _pretty_ when he sleeps that that it's really quite demoralizing – before aimlessly beginning to follow the river south.

The terrain is so confusing and completely foreign that her progress is slow, but her curiosity pushes her on anyway; curiosity about what Itachi had sensed earlier, as well as the new country itself. She has never been to Lighting or anywhere remotely like it, and now that she is in a somewhat better mood, Sakura has to admit that it is beautiful, in a strange, eerie kind of way. She doesn't know how long she just wanders along the river, careful not to trip over any of the trailing vines or get her boots stuck in any of the damp patches of mud, just lost in her thoughts. Between assignments and interactions with Itachi, she doesn't really get time to just _think_ anymore – just in the shower, for about twenty minutes a day, really. Which isn't ever enough.

"Are you sure she's here?"

The voice is so soft and faint that she can barely hear it, and honestly, at first Sakura just nods absentmindedly. She _is _sure about that, yes—

And then she stops, mid-step, when she realizes that the voice hadn't been some kind of weird internal monologue. It had been an _actual_ voice, and involuntarily, Sakura draws her arms back to herself defensively, remembering exactly how her last encounter with the Root captain had begun. But wait, it can't be – he's dead…

"Of course."

_What the hell, Itachi?_

She can barely hear it, yes – the voices are coming from quite a distance upriver, from the shelter of some sort of glade – but it sounds so much like her partner that Sakura just blinks, nonplussed, as she realizes her mistake. It sounds so much like Itachi, yeah, but he's all the way back there, and Itachi's tone is also just a shade deeper than whoever this new person is.

…_Oh, kami._

She feels the blood start to drain out of her face, leaving her skin ashen. Sakura doesn't recall making the conscious decision to keep walking forward, slowing her step, taking care to be as quiet as possible, and barely even breathing, for more ways than one. Her senses aren't as honed and acute as Kiba and Shino's, but her hearing is somewhat better than average, and…and…she can't even think straight right now, she really can't.

Her chakra is still a little low, but she masks it flawlessly, and activates a concealment genjutsu that wavers somewhat. She is at the edges of the glade, now, just far enough away from them to make sure that they don't see her…

Sakura is vaguely conscious of her fingers digging into the moss-covered bark of the nearest tree, enough for the sensitive skin at her fingertips to almost bleed. All she can see are three rather distinctive-looking individuals, all of them with their backs to her – there is a girl with flame-red hair, haphazardly chopped off at one side and left to grow sleek and long on the other, and a taller male on one side of her, dressed in pale purple, with ivory hair that falls to the middle of his back. The figure that draws her attention most thus far is this absolutely _huge_ guy in the center, swathed in black pants, a tan shirt, and a blue cloak – along with spiky orange-blonde hair.

"You should rest, or something," the _really_ tall one says, in a voice that is surprisingly soft, coming from somebody of his size. "We've covered over a hundred miles in the past few hours, and you've led the way for the entire time."

Much to her intense displeasure, Sakura can't _see_ anything past the three in front of her, but… "We've come this far," the Itachi-sounding voice (she can't bring herself to think his name just yet), says tersely. "We _have_ to—"

This time, the red-haired girl is the one who speaks. "We'll find her," she replies reassuringly, tossing her hair back and sounding very sure of herself. "Don't worry."

Sakura closes her eyes, then, even though this definitely isn't wise. Her head is pounding at the same rate as her heart, spinning so fast that she isn't sure that she is even standing up straight anymore.

It takes a few minutes for her to somewhat regain her composure, and when she does, the small glade is empty. Her flushed, trembling forehead is resting against the tree in an attempt to steady herself, her breaths coming faster than normal. It takes even longer for her to even attempt walking, but when Sakura does, she belatedly realizes that she really has no idea where she's going, but her feet seem to have a different idea, leading her slowly, unquestionably, in his direction.

She finds him five minutes into the glade, and lets the concealment genjutsu flicker off as she just stares at him. Takes him in, after _so_ long.

Sakura's first, ridiculous, thought is that this feels anti-climactic. Really, obnoxiously anti-climactic. The first time she sees him after so long, after _everything_ – she had dreamed about punching him through a few concrete walls, or right through a couple of trees and straight into a wall of solid bedrock. About looking down at his bruised, utterly shocked face with an expression of nothing less than _complete_ dispassion, and saying, "You're welcome."

Instead, Sasuke is lying with his back braced against a tree and his legs half-drawn up to his chest, sound asleep. Nearer to unconsciousness, really, looking so bone-weary that it almost makes her hurt just to look at him, for a number of reasons. Sakura is faintly aware of lifting her hand to her throat, feeling her breath catch, as she inhales and exhales in a way that feels painful.

He looks so different. He's changed his outfit, and wears dark pants, a matching, close-fitting shirt with elbow-length sleeves, and a black flak vest over it. Even in sleep, Sasuke looks harder, sharper, so much more jaded than he had been even the last time she had seen him, and Sakura blinks as she observes the last change in his appearance. His hair falls bluntly to his shoulders, now, tied back in a ponytail at the nape of the neck, and he looks so much like Itachi that it makes her head spin even more.

Once, about a year ago, when she had been sparring with Shikamaru, he had accidentally broken three of her ribs in three individual places on each bone. She had healed them, and they had felt alright, but a week later, during some mission or another, she had taken one hit to the ribs, and the same three bones that had broken earlier broke all over again in all the same places, and very nearly punctured one of her lungs that time around. It had been the most physical pain that she had ever been in.

This is easily a million times worse.

Sakura doesn't cry (just barely), and she knows it's stupid, but she smoothes a few locks of hair behind one of her ears with a hand that shakes slightly, before slowly sinking to her knees in front of the still-sleeping Sasuke.

He's…looking for her. Wants her, for whatever reason.

This has implications that she doesn't even want to think about – but regardless, all Sakura can wrap her mind around is that this hurts so much more than she had ever anticipated it would.

-

It has been nine or ten months since they have seen each other, and already, Sasuke's skill has grown in leaps and bounds so great that it is almost frightening.

Maybe, subconsciously, he had known that the chakra signature he had caught the faintest, most barely-there trace of had been Sasuke's. But his younger brother had been so elusive that even Itachi had difficulty tracking him down, during the period of time when Sakura had been engaged in combat with the Cloud team…and just when he had detected the flare of chakra that marked a slight slip of Sasuke's concealment genjutsu, he had simultaneously felt a sharp decrease in Sakura's, for reasons unknown.

It had been – unimaginably difficult. Everything that Itachi had gone through in his last life had been for Sasuke. _Everything._ He loves his younger brother, yes; would do anything to protect him. He has always known this, but…try as he might, he cannot deny that, over time, he has developed somewhat similar protective instincts toward Sakura as well. This is an utterly novel concept that complicates things far too much, and for a split second, Itachi had been torn. But he had gone back to Sakura, and for good reason…even though, for the entire time he had been healing her arm, he had simply been unable to think of anything else besides Sasuke. What was one supposed to do, in a situation like this?

Itachi is one of, if not _the_ most, intelligent individuals of his time – and it did not take a prodigy to deduce that Sasuke's sudden appearance in this location was most certainly not coincidence. The loud, irritating red-haired female on his team appeared to be a tracker, and the arrogant little Mist-nin seemed to have similar skills. Judging from the pace and the thoroughness of their progress through the Lightning's swampland, Sasuke was most definitely dead-set on finding something.

And, judging from their history, that _something_ just happened to be Sakura.

Speaking of which, Itachi had no idea how to answer her queries regarding his sudden flight – could he _really_ have told Sakura that he had just found out that his younger brother was in the area, desperately pursuing her, with presumable intent to absorb her into his little…team? The thought leaves a somewhat bitter taste in his mouth, but it is overwhelmingly likely that Sakura would want to go with Sasuke, if they were to encounter one another – and…_kami_, telling Sakura would have been the right thing to do, but Itachi simply could not bring himself to do it, for reasons that even he cannot understand.

His thoughts had literally been so tormented that considering the issue had given him an awful headache – and he hadn't even realized that he had fallen asleep, until his eyes had snapped open, and he had found himself alone underneath the tree.

Itachi's last words had been to Sasuke. His younger brother's shocked expression had been the last sight he had seen on this world.

And now…inexplicably enough, against all odds, here they are again. Sasuke looks even more drawn and almost gaunt than he had during their battle, and much older than his fifteen-almost-sixteen years. His eyes are closed, his chest rising and falling steadily, and Itachi can't help but realize that they both sleep and sit in the exact same pose, with their knees drawn halfway to their chest, arms wrapped around them loosely.

And for a moment, Itachi despises Pein and Konan with every fiber of his being, because he just does not know what to _do._ According to his most recent communication with Madara, Sasuke knows the truth about…everything, but – can either of them handle seeing each other now, like this? Would it be better for the two of them if they could reconcile, or if…Sasuke just continued to believe that he is dead?

These are probably the only questions that Itachi simply does not know how to answer.

Part of him wants to turn away, to melt and disappear back into the shadows, because the expression on Sakura's face, in her eyes, as she gazes at Sasuke, encompasses such a wide range of emotions that he feels as if he is invading her privacy by even _looking_ at her. She looks more even more raw and vulnerable than she had been on the night of her sixteenth birthday, even though she isn't crying now.

Itachi admits to idly wondering about the specifics of Sasuke and Sakura's relationship with one another on earlier occasions, but – well, considering what he sees now, there is no longer anything to wonder about.

He turns around and walks away, and most definitely does not feel something small and unrecognizable constrict within him.

-

To Itachi's surprise, Sakura returns to their area of the swamp about fifteen minutes later. She still looks pale and a little lost – like she has just seen a ghost.

He tries not to notice this as he rises from his place on the ground, crossing the distance between them in a few strides, and then settles the strap of her forgotten bag over one of her delicate shoulders, and Sakura just blinks at him. "What…" she begins, a little uncertainly.

For a fraction of a second, Itachi considers it. It wouldn't be too difficult at all – she is looking up at him already, her head tilted inquitively, at an angle; he could just put his hands on her hips and pull her just a little bit closer, lean a few inches lower until he can press her lips to hers—

But then he remembers Sasuke.

"Take care, Sakura," Itachi tells her quietly, folding his arms deeper into his Akatsuki cloak, to forestall any temptations of doing something _else_ untoward.

Perhaps it's just the shock of her recent encounter with Sasuke, but Sakura just blinks again. "I – what? Are you…"

The depth of her confusion gives Itachi momentary pause, and he raises an eyebrow. "…I was under the impression that you and my brother were—"

Sakura turns away sharply, her hair shielding her face, and just like that, she starts to walk away – but in the opposite direction of Sasuke's makeshift camp. "No," she replies sharply, avoiding his eyes. "_God_, no."

Decidedly nonplussed, Itachi follows her, throwing a last, long look back at the glade where his younger brother lies. If he and Sasuke are meant to meet again – well, now does not seem to be the appropriate time for such things.

The two of them walk in tense silence for another hour, until they eventually stumble out of the swamp and into a small border town. It can hardly be called that, anyway – it's more like a glorified rest stop, with just a tiny inn and a few places to eat. Itachi purchases them a room that looks more like a refurbished broom closet, and the second they walk into it and close the door behind them, Sakura turns on him, suddenly looking furious enough to attempt clawing his eyes out. "Why didn't you _tell_ me, damn it? You knew he was there from the very beginning!"

The barely-repressed anger in her voice throws Itachi for a loop for the barest of moments, before he recovers somewhat and arches one eyebrow, again. "If you and Sasuke are not – well, then, I do not see why it matters so much," he returns, keeping his voice impassive – he'll be damned if he tells her the real reason.

This statement actually makes Sakura stop in her tracks for a moment, and then she takes one step closer, glaring up at him with a vehemence unlike anything he's seen before. "Were you afraid that I would – choose to go with him, or something? Is _that _it?"

"Well," Itachi returns sardonically, for once losing just a tiny bit of his icy self-control. "I do wonder what gave me that impression."

Sakura just stares at him for a few moments, looking like she has a million things she wants to say, but then, surprisingly enough, she backs down, turning away again. "You have no idea," she replies tersely, "what you're talking about."

"I believe I do, actually."

In the next second, Itachi barely manages to catch the chakra-enhanced fist that had been aimed squarely at his face. "I _hate_ him!" Sakura fairly screeches, pulling herself back and backing away, to the opposite wall. "You just don't get it, do you? This is _all his fault_!"

"I—" – then Sakura's statement fully registers, and Itachi stares back at her, his bloodline limit activating of its own accord – "…What?"

Sakura starts pacing the length of the room angrily, looking like a tiger constrained in a too-small cage. "You heard me," she hisses. "If he hadn't been such a damned, selfish idiot who freaking turned traitor and _left_, then none of this would have happened! None of us would have gone on a mission to hunt the both of you down, so Danzou wouldn't have had an opportunity to revolt, and even if he did, we would have quelled it and _killed_ his sorry ass, and…it's all his fault!"

She turns toward the wall, looking like she wants nothing more than to punch right through it, and Itachi just blinks. "…Your logic is faulty," he says, at last, and the words lie heavily in the space between them. "You are blaming the wrong person."

Sakura gives him a steely glare, placing her hands on her hips. "Oh, really?" she asks, her voice dripping sarcasm.

Itachi closes the gap between them again, fairly backing her against the wall, and even Sakura's own anger isn't enough to keep a slight shiver of apprehension from going down her spine. "I murdered my family, remember?" he hisses. "_I _told Sasuke that what he was doing wasn't enough. _I _told him to do whatever it took to become stronger – to become strong enough to kill me and avenge the clan that I killed so very ruthlessly. Sasuke did _nothing_ but listen to me, and _because _of that – because he left and sought training with Orochimaru, after two and a half years, he _was_ strong enough to kill me. If you seek to blame anybody for this, Sakura, it should be me."

Itachi has always prided himself on his acting ability, but to his surprise, Sakura just shakes her head, looking up at him calmly. "No. And, you know what? Don't make excuses for him; he should have seen through it. There were too many flaws in your story. Too many inconsistencies. And don't even _try_ to tell me that it was his training with that snake bastard that made him strong enough to kill you – it was your…sickness, Itachi. The terminal one you've had since birth and were diagnosed with at six. And you just let Sasuke believe that he killed you."

For the first time, for the briefest of seconds, Sakura sees nothing but raw emotion flicker through Itachi's normally impassive features. And before she even has enough time to feel amazed, she is pressed up against the wall, his hand curled around her throat. He has leaned down enough so that their noses are barely an inch apart, and his thumb rests squarely on a pressure point that could kill her if he even pushes down a centimeter's worth – but his hand is exerting no force whatsoever, merely holding her in place. A squeak of surprise dies in her throat, and Sakura just stops breathing out of sheer anxiety, her eyes locking with the swirling crimson-and-black pinwheels of the Sharingan. "Who told you that?" Itachi fairly whispers, his voice more hoarse than she has ever heard it.

_So it is true._

Sakura meets his gaze fearlessly, now, although her voice is a little smaller than she would have liked. "…Danzou," she replies, at last. "He – after we all returned from our mission, and he forced Kakashi-sensei to report to him. He told all of us about…everything."

She is vaguely conscious of Itachi pulling himself up to his full height, before releasing her and turning away, and Sakura can't help but think about how it must feel, to have the secret that he's suffered with for the past almost-six years be exposed to the world like that.

"I suppose he would have found the irony amusing."

Itachi's voice is surprisingly strained, and Sakura nods once, even though his back is still to her.

As if by mutual agreement, the two of them move to the small bed and sit side-by-side on it, even though they are miles away in thought.

"You know," Sakura says at last, quietly, as she looks at a fixed spot on the wall. "Even before I knew, I guess I always subconsciously thought that something about it…wasn't quite right."

Itachi stares at a separate fixed spot at the same wall. "…Perhaps that is just because you are a clever girl, Sakura."

Despite the gravity of their situation, Sakura can't help but smile at the wall a little – this is probably the first compliment he has ever given her. "Thanks."

They are silent for a long while, before Itachi speaks up again. "Even if you believe that he should have seen through the façade – do not blame Sasuke."

Sakura twirls a few strands of hair around one finger absentmindedly. "Yeah, but – I mean, even if he was dead set on…" she looks over at Itachi hesitantly, somewhat tripping over her words. "…Killing you, or whatever – he didn't have to let it consume him like that. Even if revenge was what he wanted, _we_ could have helped him. Kakashi-sensei could have trained him, Naruto would have been his best friend, and I could have—"

Sakura's gaze drops to the floor, trailing off mid-sentence, and abruptly, she gets off the bed and makes her way to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

-

When Sakura comes out again, she is dry-eyed and completely composed, and neither of them makes any further reference to their earlier conversation.

It is not until late that night, after they have performed an assignment in the next town west and then returned to their inn, that it comes up again. Sakura had been unusually quiet for the remainder of the day, and Itachi had been even more tense than usual – but now, they are both curled under the thin covers of the hard, unfamiliar bed, staring at opposite walls of the room, while lost in their own thoughts.

"…If it is any consolation, I do not think that Sasuke would have found it easy to leave you behind." Itachi's voice is so quiet that it is almost lost in the steady hum of the small wooden ceiling fan, and after a few minutes, when she does not reply, he half-sits up and looks over at Sakura – who is hugging an extra pillow close to her chest, sound asleep.

He lowers himself back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling contemplatively.

Maybe it is better that way, after all.

* * *

_to be continued_

* * *

Sorry that it took a little bit longer for me to get this chapter out. I also wanted to say that, for those of you who remember the problems I talked about in my author's note at the end of the first chapter - last night, my mom had to go to the hospital, and...it's pretty serious. I don't know when she's going to come back home.

It might take me slightly longer than usual to finish the next chapter (in which the Akatsuki and their new plan for world domination come into play), because things are pretty rough around here.

But still, thank you so much to everybody who's left comments thus far. It means a lot to me. :)


	12. Deadly Ambitions

_As always, thank you so much to everybody who was kind enough to review. :)_

_-_

_Chapter Twelve: Deadly Ambitions_

_-_

Propping her chin up with one hand disconsolately, Sakura absentmindedly takes hold of the nearest bottle of maple syrup and draws a sad face on her one remaining waffle. Upon realizing what she is doing, she makes a face, hastily scribbles the sad face out, and then replaces it with a smiling one that is still unsatisfactorily…wobbly. And then, on the verge of correcting it again, the unfortunate kunoichi realizes that she has somehow managed to deplete a good half of the bottle of syrup on her one waffle alone.

Great.

Abandoning this failed artistic pursuit, Sakura situates her thoroughly saturated waffle back in the middle of its paper plate, before taking it firmly in hand and making her way out of the more or less deserted dining room, deciding that she can just finish this upstairs. After passing a calendar in the lobby on her way to the elevators, she cannot help but notice that it has been exactly one week since she and Itachi had run into Sasuke on the borders of Lightning – they haven't seen hide or hair of him since, though, and she honestly doesn't know how to feel about that…not to mention, Itachi. She had been so wrapped up in her own misery on that first day that she hadn't fully realized how difficult it must have been for him; seeing Sasuke again after all that had happened between them. The current situation between the Uchiha brothers (as far as Sakura knows, Sasuke has no idea that Itachi is still alive, despite his still being listed active in the latest Bingo Book) is so complicated that it makes her head spin. Briefly, she considers the possibility of a reconciliation between them, now that Sasuke apparently knows the truth about Itachi, but…she supposes that it is none of her business, and the thought makes her frown.

Trying to get her mind off anything to do with her ex-teammate, Sakura stares at the formidable rows of buttons on the inside of the elevator, before tentatively pressing the one marked "Five." In the past week, she and Itachi had finally fought their way out of Lightning's swamplands, and accidentally happened upon a large city – which is, of course, infinitely preferable to the alternative. She still can't figure out why their hotel is so deserted, though; it is easily the nicest place that they have stayed in so far, and Sakura's only problem with it is that it is so freaking _big_, enough for her to have gotten lost six times so far in the two days that they have been here. Not to mention that horrible first incident with the elevator, where, due to her erratic pushing of the buttons, she and Itachi had become stuck in the elevator in question, right outside the fifth floor – and it had taken all of her considerable persuasive skills to convince him to _not_ Katon a giant flaming hole through the elevator doors.

As a result, the Elevator Incident had taught Sakura that even Itachi at his most resolute has a tendency to waver visibly in response to her most pleading look, especially when utilized in conjunction with a few carefully executed eyelash flutters and the slightest pout. Which makes her think that there might be some truth to that old adage of catching more flies with honey than with vinegar, which, in turn, is _definitely _news to her. Although it's not like she wants to 'catch' Itachi, or anything…

Anyway.

In reflection, though, it had been an amusing experience; one that it had done its part to alleviate a great deal of the tension that had been building between them since their encounter with Sasuke…not to mention the residual awkwardness left over from their impromptu make-out session. Sakura flinches a little at the memory, before stepping out of the elevator, and looking down the plush red-carpeted hallway, feeling a little lost.

_Room 516?_

Or maybe it had been 526. Or…perhaps 546? Maybe even 566?

Cursing her absentmindedness, Sakura readjusts her grip on the paper plate, wandering down the hall slowly. After a few moments, it occurs to her that she can just follow Itachi's chakra signature, or something – but then, after a quick attempt at this, she remembers that he keeps it cloaked _all _the time, and she scowls. Not caring that, to an outside observer, she probably looks like some kind of stalker; the pink-haired kunoichi makes her way down the hallway slowly, trying her best to trigger her memory somehow.

It is only when she passes Room 518 that something very strange just clicks within the confines of her mind, and as a result, Sakura's eyes widen as she clutches her waffle tighter for security, slowly backtracking to room 516.

Yeah, that's definitely Itachi's voice. Very soft, and muted by the heavy wooden door, but that low, smooth tenor is absolutely unmistakable.

Which she can't say for the other voice. In all honesty, Sakura's first instinct is to nearly squeeze her waffle to death as she stares at the door, utterly shocked, and desperately thinking something along the lines of, _Oh my god, in the name of all that's holy, does Itachi really have a…visitor_?

And then some more specifics register. Namely, that the other voice is totally unfamiliar, which means that it isn't Kisame dropping in for a surprise visit, and…that it is very, very masculine.

At this, Sakura almost drops her waffle in horror, because _what the hell, _she could have _sworn _that Itachi didn't swing that way, and…and…

Abandoning all forms of social niceties, Sakura fights with the doorknob for a few moments, before literally falling headlong into the room; luckily, she narrowly avoids tripping on the edge of the rug, and barely manages to grab the corner of the dresser to steady herself. "Itachi, what—"

Then Itachi slowly turns around, giving her a very, very nonplussed look.

…And so does the ghostly apparition-_thing_ in front of him.

Sakura's mind actually ceases functioning for a split second as she stares at the creepy _thing_, utterly aghast. But then she realizes that the weird hologram has spiky orange hair, multiple facial piercings, and a long Akatsuki cloak, which must mean—

There is a long moment of awkward silence between the Akatsuki Leader, his undercover solo operative, and the horrorstruck ex-Leaf kunoichi standing right between them.

"…Itachi," Pein comments, at last, and even Sakura can hear the subtle, perplexed undertone in his monotonous voice. "Is this, ah…girl… an – acquaintance – of yours?"

Before anybody can do or say anything further, Sakura claps her hands over her mouth, entirely mortified, and slowly backs out of the room, taking care to close the door behind her.

Feeling the weight of an equally disconcerted purple gaze upon him, Itachi turns back to face the Leader, sighing almost imperceptibly as he does so. "…It is a rather long story."

-

Sakura rides the elevator up and down for no less than an hour, taking small, traumatized bites out of her waffle as she does so. Once finished with this endeavor, and upon deciding that it may possibly be safe to return, she cautiously slinks down the hallway toward Room 516. It sounds silent, but she knocks anyway, blushing hard as she does so.

Itachi opens the door after a few moments, looking very vaguely amused, despite the highly…awkward…conversation that had ensued with Pein after his partner's unceremonious entrance and subsequent departure. "Hello, Sakura."

Sakura abandons the usual pleasantries in favor of making her way inside as she runs her fingers through her hair and gives an exaggerated moan of displeasure. "That was the most embarrassing thing that's happened to me since…kami, I don't even know." She flings herself down on the bed again, and Itachi can't help but notice that the way she bends her legs at the knee and arches her back in a slight stretch does some _very _interesting things to her slim figure, all of which are proving to be highly distracting at the moment.

"You're staring," Sakura points out succinctly, even as she arches her neck back, stretching the stiff muscles there and fixing her gaze on the ceiling. Rather disconcerted at being caught, Itachi redirects his gaze toward the scenery outside the window; although, of course, the alternative is infinitely preferable. They are both silent for a few minutes, until she speaks again, a little more tentatively this time. "So, um…what did your Leader…?"

She trails off uncertainly, and Itachi doesn't allow himself to take his eyes off the window as he replies, keeping his tone carefully impassive. "We are to meet him at the headquarters in Rain to discuss our progress in the latest operation."

It takes a moment for this statement to register, and when it does, Sakura blinks. _Latest operation…_

Admitting it is a little embarrassing, but until these words, until this morning, despite the black-and-red cloak that clearly marks his allegiances, Sakura really has forgotten that Itachi has ties to anybody besides…herself. They have been partners for so long that it feels like they are in their own insulated bubble most of the time, even though she had known that, aside from the portion of currency that he uses to pay for their rooms, the rest of his half of their combined earnings must go to the Akatsuki funds. She fidgets a little, sliding out of bed and going to stand beside Itachi, although she can't bring herself to look at him as she toys with the material of the silky purple curtains a little uncomfortably. "When you say _we_…"

Itachi takes a little while to respond, engaging in a slight internal struggle between logic and impulse. He doesn't _want_ to leave her alone for any amount of time – kami, no. But at the same time, he knows that the Leader and Madara will not tolerate an outsider knowing the location of the Akatsuki headquarters – and although she is a missing-nin now, even Itachi has to admit that Sakura simply would not be able to be trusted in that situation.

Especially if she knew the specifics of the Akatsuki's latest goal.

"The Leader is not receptive to the idea of any non-members entering Rain," Itachi murmurs, by way of explanation.

Much to her displeasure, Sakura actually feels herself waver a little as she looks up at him. "…Oh," she squeaks.

Kami, she seems dead set on making this difficult for him. "I will likely only be absent for two or three days, at most," Itachi says indistinctly, looking down at the carpet.

Sakura knows what he is very subtly trying to do, but to her displeasure, part of her really _does _need this reassurance, and she inclines her head a fraction of an inch, struggling a little with what to do next. "…I won't go anywhere," she says in a rush, before she even has time to really think her words through.

For a few moments, Itachi is not sure as to the specifics of her meaning; she could be talking about their decision to stay within the confines of this city for the next few days or so…or, it could be an oblique reference to their conversation a week ago, about Sasuke. He has never hesitated to give, to _sacrifice_ everything in his life for his younger brother, but – it feels so unbearably selfish of this to even think this, but he feels like this – _Sakura_ – is something that he would rather like to keep.

Sakura misinterprets the look on his face, though, and tilts her head a little to the side, her gaze seeking his. "You do trust me, right?"

Her words are soft and uncharacteristically uncertain, and Itachi smirks in response, even though it is considerably less acerbic than usual. "I do."

This admission takes them both by surprise, and he returns to studiously observing the curtains, while Sakura does the same to the windowsill. She is vaguely conscious of blushing, her heart beating a little faster than usual, and she just isn't used to feeling so damn _unsure_ of herself. "Do you want some waffles before you go?" she blurts, before wincing visibly as soon as the asinine statement works its way out of her traitorous vocal cords. _Waffles_. Kami. Like this entire exchange _needed_ to get any more awkward.

Predictably enough, Itachi looks similarly disconcerted by her question. "No," he replies, too quickly. "I will be able to eat once I reach the headquarters."

They fall silent again, and Sakura struggles with what to _do._ Normally, she wouldn't have thought twice about standing on the tips of her toes and flinging her arms around Itachi's shoulders, before pressing a quick kiss to his cheek – but the last time she had done that, she had elicited a reaction from him that neither of them had been ready for. And if the same thing happens this time…but still, it doesn't feel right to just let him go, so Sakura reaches out a little hesitantly, taking Itachi's hands in hers and lightly intertwining their fingers together.

Surprisingly, he doesn't tense at the sudden contact, and for a little while, they just hold hands, carefully not looking at each other. Itachi struggles with himself during this brief period of time – he wants to do something, yes, and this impulse is just so strange and foreign on its own that makes deciding what that _something_ should be, even more difficult. Part of him is rather vocally demanding that he just let go of her now, because this is already pushing things a little bit too far, blurring too many lines even more than what they have already done – and besides, Sakura is only a few months older than Sasuke, which means that she is far too young for him, and this is so very improper—

Still, while Sakura is considering doing the same thing, Itachi is the one who slowly bridges the distance between them, gently relocating his hands to the smooth curve of her slender waist, his thumbs stroking along the undeniably pleasing contour of her body. In response, Sakura only sighs a little, leaning forward for a few moments, and bracing her small hands against his chest, so that her forehead presses against the abstract metal flowers of the necklace that he always wears. He watches her carefully, trying to see if she feels uncomfortable in any way, but there is nothing of the sort in her liquid green gaze as she offers him the smallest of smiles, before reaching up and interlacing her fingers behind his neck.

Itachi's better judgment is still heatedly protesting against this, offering the rather valid points that a kiss to the cheek – or forehead; Sakura has a very nice forehead, after all – would be more than acceptable…but even the thought of the alternative is proving to be so very, dizzyingly tempting.

For her part, Sakura cannot read the expression in his eyes, and she doesn't know where this is going – part of her wants to stop this before it goes too far and they undo all the progress that they have made in reclaiming a more _normal_ sort of relationship, but an equally-sized part of her wants it so much. No matter how much she had cursed Itachi's approach to their last kiss; it is now starting to look rather good, in hindsight, because he simply had not given her any time to _think_ about it. He had just gone in for the kill, like the deadly combatant he was, and proceeded to absolutely blow her mind for the next ten minutes or so. Although, this sentiment may be stupid, but still…she trusts Itachi. He probably knows what he's doing, even if she doesn't.

…Coincidentally enough, at this exact moment, Itachi realizes that he does not know what he is doing. He still isn't sure whether he is aiming for a more platonic kiss to Sakura's cheek or forehead or—

He slowly, tentatively angles his head toward her, anyway, and desperately hoping for the best, Sakura closes her eyes prematurely, stretching up to meet him.

…Later, Sakura will reflect that maybe it had been because they hadn't been holding each other right. Or perhaps it was because both of them had been so damned nervous and desperately second-guessing themselves that they had jinxed it before it even started. Or maybe their intense, steamy first kisses had just been terrible flukes, and in reality, both she and Itachi were just doomed to fail horribly at kissing.

Anyway.

En route to their attempted kiss…_thing_, Itachi and Sakura bump noses.

Hard.

To both of their credit, Sakura bites her lip and just barely manages to not whimper, while Itachi blinks, doing his best to restrain the almost confused sound that is fighting to make its way free of his throat. _That_ had been new. And…rather unpleasant, to be honest.

Now too flustered to even entertain the idea of a second attempt at the real thing, both Itachi and Sakura let go of each other hastily and step a safe distance apart. Itachi is so immersed in a wave of intense self-recrimination (that…tactical mishap…had been some sort of higher power's way of warning him off engaging in such scandalous activities with a sixteen-year-old girl, he is sure of it) that at first, he almost doesn't notice when Sakura finally approaches, very cautiously, and gives him a much quicker and safer kiss to the cheek. "Take care, all right?" she manages, blushing so hard that it really does feel as if her face is emitting heat.

Somewhat at a loss for what to do, if anything, Itachi only murmurs a soft reciprocation, before vanishing in a swirl of ash.

…Leaving his partner to seriously consider the merits of banging her head against the nearest wall until she succumbs to blissful unconsciousness.

Forgetting that she is an A-ranked kunoichi and sixteen and _so_ much more mature than this, Sakura actually snarls wrathfully, before flinging herself facedown on the bed and punching the pillows over and over again. What the hell? What the hell was _that_? Were she and Itachi like…_dating_…now, or something? After all, they had very recently graduated from torrid let's-have-hot-make-out-sessions-and-then-pretend-that-it-never-happened _liaisons_ (never mind that the occasion in question had been a singular event), to an actual – well, attempted – goodbye kiss, complete with all the awkwardness and…general wince factor…that are trademark factors of first anythings in _any _new relationship.

Sakura rolls over onto her back, staring up at the ceiling blankly. It is times like this that she misses Ino even more than usual.

Kami, she doesn't even know what to think. She and Naruto had parted on uncertain terms, regarding their friendship or relationship or whatever – and as much as Sakura absolutely _despises_ admitting it, her encountering Sasuke again had only served to stir up emotions that she had believed were long gone.

The absolute last thing that she needs right now is the issue of her slowly growing feelings for Itachi.

At first, Sakura had tried her best to believe that her attraction to him was purely physical – that it was just a natural chemical or biological response to an undeniably (_unbelievably_) attractive older male. But how many times had she found herself not just internally sighing over his various physical attributes – which is embarrassing enough to admit – but trying her best to decipher the subtle nuances of his behavior? The day after they had run into Sasuke, Itachi had been even more quiet and withdrawn than usual, and she had tried _so _hard to coax even an amused smirk out of him. She had succeeded in this pursuit by the end of the day, and she felt so happy about it afterward that…it wasn't even funny.

It's – well, it's just totally _horrifying_ to admit it, but Sakura definitely doesn't believe in lying to herself. Besides, what other rational explanation could there be for – her feeling the way Itachi makes her feel? It's terrible. It's awful. It's her heart feeling like it turns over every time he smirks in that absolutely infuriating way, and her pulse racing whenever they exchange even the briefest moments of physical contact. She…she _likes_ him. Itachi. And in all honesty, this sentiment really does make her feel like the world is coming to an end.

This entire stupid _crush-thing_ wouldn't even be so bad, if it wasn't _Itachi _who was the current recipient of her affections. Itachi, of all people – who is wrong for her in just about every way that matters. He can be capable of surprising gentleness, yeah, but…he can also be cold and ruthless and so emotionally detached that it's scary and absolutely incomprehensible and indefinable. He is smoke and mirrors and everything that she doesn't know enough about the world to put a name to – made up of more shades of gray than probably even exist in nature. Sakura doesn't understand him, and she doesn't know if she even _wants _to. In many ways, Itachi is much too complicated and too damaged for her – it isn't like one of those stupid personality clichés in that he just needs some friendship and _love _to magically transform him into a normal kind of person.

She doesn't want to care for him as much as she does. Hell, she had just been unceremoniously reminded earlier today that…despite what things are like when they are alone together, Itachi is still part of the Akatsuki. And just because they aren't hunting jinchiruuki anymore doesn't mean that they aren't still enemies of, oh, just about _everybody_ in the sane, rational world. He had mentioned their 'latest operation' earlier today, and Sakura just feels _stupid_ for not realizing that they must have had some other plan to take control of the world. She can't wrap her mind around it – she has never asked him about said plan, yes, but whatever it is, it's the Akatsuki, which means that it's going to involve lots of needless violence and bloodshed and loss of innocent lives…which, as far as she is concerned, is completely unconscionable. But Itachi's allegiances are to the Akatsuki first and foremost – not her. And she should have realized this earlier.

Sakura is vaguely conscious of dragging herself out of bed and walking toward the window slowly, resting her flushed forehead against the chilly glass. She cannot reconcile _her _– not her – Itachi with the amoral Akatsuki member who would think nothing of going to unspeakable measures in order to take control of the world. She just can't. And she can't want _one_ part of him, but not the other. It's just so unbearably, incredibly confusing; enough to make her feel all twisted up from the inside out.

Of one thing, she is sure – she has to stop this, whatever _this_ is. The growing physical and emotional intimacy isn't good for either of them, and her personal feelings about it, about _him_, don't matter. If she ignores them enough, they're going to go away.

Sakura swallows over the tightness in her throat, unable to even think about this any longer. It hurts too much, in ways that she can't even attempt to understand. She picks up her discarded bag mechanically, before making her way to the bathroom, but she isn't going to cry. She isn't weak like that. She is just going to stand underneath the scalding water until things like this stop mattering so much.

And, when she comes out again, it's going to be like none of it ever happened.

-

_Rain_

-

The mouth on Deidara's right hand chews up a large chunk of clay, spitting out a decently sized cherry bomb, and he smirks in satisfaction, tossing it back and forth between his hands. "So, it's just you and me, yeah?" he asks, throwing his feet up on the drab brown sofa. "Some meeting this is going to be. More like a waste of precious time, yeah."

Sasori ceases his dispassionate observation of his fingernails in order to look up at his once-again partner. "Zetsu and Kisame are still occupied in Grass, and it is the same with Hidan and Kakuzu in Waterfall; they have made their reports already. Itachi should still be coming, though, if he has not arrived already."

His blank recital of information is rudely interrupted by a snort from Deidara. "Screw that, yeah – we'd be better off without the antisocial bastard, anyway."

A slight, enigmatic smirk touches the corner of Sasori's newly youthful face as he deliberately leans across from his armchair, picking up a copy of the newest Bingo Book from the coffee table. "Not so antisocial, it seems," he murmurs.

Deidara actually ceases manufacturing cherry bombs at this, his interest now officially perked as he stares over at his partner. "What's that supposed to mean, yeah?"

There are a few minutes of silence, and then the Bingo Book sails through the air, landing squarely on Deidara's lap – and already open to page ten. Deidara stares at it, wide-eyed, before lifting it up, brushing his bangs out of his eyes in order to see better. "What—" he stares at Sasori, astounded. "Isn't this _your_ little kunoichi, yeah?"

Sasori makes a small, amused sound in the back of his throat. "My killer, yes. You would do better to call her _Itachi's _little kunoichi, though."

Deidara's eyes widen even further as he look down, scanning Sakura's pages of information. "Her date of defect – August of last year. Which means that she was probably one of those who left Konoha when that Danzou guy took over, yeah?"

"It is likely," Sasori deadpans.

Deidara surveys the picture of Sakura, smirking appreciatively as he does so. "I remember her; A-ranked – nice and capable, yeah…I wonder how a pretty firebrand like this ended up as Itachi's little—"

Sasori frowns, preempting the epithet that is sure to follow. "Have some respect, Deidara," he replies repressively.

Deidara lifts his hands defensively. "What? I'm just saying – somebody like her probably wouldn't find being a missing-nin easy, and desperation does things to people, yeah. That Uchiha would probably take care of her, too," – he lifts an eyebrow suggestively – "if he got something in return."

"Hm," Sasori replies, sounding somewhat unconvinced as to Deidara's assessment of the relationship between Itachi and Sakura, as he reclaims the Bingo Book and glances down at the girl in question, looking vaguely intrigued.

"Think he brought her along?" Deidara asks, sounding a little bit too interested, as one of the mouths on his hand spits out another cherry bomb.

"Perhaps," Sasori contemplates, trying _not_ to sound too interested.

Deidara grins wolfishly. "Think he'd mind sharing, yeah?"

"…You know, Deidara, one would think that you would value your second lease on life a little bit more than you appear to."

-

It is raining, predictably enough.

It has also been more than a year since Itachi has entered his private room within the Akatsuki headquarters, but everything is just the same as he left it. The entirety of the headquarters is dark, yes, as it is an underground facility, but Itachi's room is made even more so by the simple, unmistakably masculine dark red and black décor. It is colder than the rest of the headquarters, too; so clean and organized that it is almost sterile, and smelling like a strange mix of herbal teas, mingled with the heavily chemical scent of the medicines he had survived entirely off of for five years straight.

Itachi settles himself onto the bed that doesn't feel so familiar, anymore, crossing his legs and settling his hands on top of his knees in an absentminded meditation position. His room has no windows, but his internal clock is telling him that he has about an hour until the meeting – and, for once, Itachi wishes that his room offered some sort of distractions within it. He does not want to think about the operation that will be discussed in the meeting, and he most _definitely _does not want to think about the girl that he has just left behind.

Not for the first time, Itachi wonders what the _hell _he had been thinking (if he had been, at all), in those last few minutes with Sakura. For the kami's sake, he is not some pathetic, hormonally driven adolescent – which means that he _should _be able to control the…impulses…that Sakura seems to trigger with so little effort. These emotions are just so new and incomprehensible that he cannot understand them in the least, and even his customary icy self-control is proving to be very little help in this situation. He does not want to care for the girl, and he most definitely does not want to _want_ her…and, much to his displeasure, he is finding himself doing exactly that. At least with the former, he can put up a decent pretense of not doing so, but the latter – well, that is another story entirely.

Itachi winces almost imperceptibly at the very thought. The first time, it had been because he had mistaken Sakura for Shisui, but earlier today, he had no such excuse for his deplorable behavior. He was all too aware of the girl he had held in his arms, and it had been truly disconcerting, how much he had just wanted to—

He tries his best to push thoughts of that nature away – he does not understand why he is so very attracted to her, and…he doesn't _want _to be. Sakura is a distraction and a weakness, and the last thing he needs. If he had any common sense, he would just let Sasuke have her, because…

The thought is too bitter to complete, and Itachi looks down at the dark red weave of the blankets beneath him, blinking a few times as he does so. Because maybe Sasuke hasn't been damaged enough; maybe he still knows how to truly care for somebody. There is still the possibility of hope and redemption for Sasuke, but for him…hardly. He is too complicated for Sakura, and far too damaged; giving in to his – feelings – would just do her a disservice.

Sakura confuses him more than he wants to admit, as well. Itachi does not know where she fits into his life, anymore – she is no longer merely just his little pink-haired partner and companion, but neither is she a…girlfriend, like Shisui had been. Until the end, his and Shisui's relationship had hardly been complicated, as well, but his and Sakura's has been from the beginning, and seems to grow more so with every day that passes. To make matters worse, Itachi knows that Sakura will be directly affected by his part in what the Akatsuki has planned, and no matter how much he dislikes admitting it, this…bothers him. Greatly.

There is only one thing that Itachi knows for sure; he cannot let this – whatever _this _is – go any further, regardless of his…personal desires. It is what is best for the both of them.

Itachi tries to meditate, then. Tries to think about absolutely nothing, except the repeating mantra that he does not want her, and he will not want her – and after a long time of this, he just inhales once, and immediately notices something that is rather…off. Something smells to sharp and acrid, and when he finally opens his eyes, slowly and warily, he catches sight of the foreign element immediately.

The note is written on dark red paper that nearly blends into his blankets, covered in telltale specks of ash, and written _in_ thin black ink, with spidery, somewhat antiquated script—

_Meet me in the third conference room at once._

_-Madara_

Itachi breaths in, once, and as he does so, crushes the note into a tiny, crumpled ball underneath his long fingers.

-

Madara likes the dark. Itachi has long suspected that this is really some sort of not-so-subtle intimidation tactic, although this particular one has never affected him much. Not even when he had been going blind.

The third conference room is almost completely black, enough for Itachi only to be able to make out the vague outline of the large, circular table that separates the two of them; the sole light in the cavernous space comes from the eerie black-punctuated crimson of Madara's bloodline limit, which throws strange shadows over his similarly colored Akatsuki cloak. Still, Itachi manages to catch sight of a faint rectangular outline resting on top of the table, near one of Madara's elbows, and his eyes narrow almost imperceptibly.

The two Uchiha simply eye each other for a few long minutes, and Itachi cannot help but notice that Madara looks considerably worse than he had during the last time they had seen each other, which had been just about nine months ago. The elder Uchiha is a great deal more withered, now, his hands trembling somewhat underneath the shelter provided by the long sleeves of his cloak, and Itachi can easily pick up on the slight, barely noticeable – but very unhealthy – wavering in his chakra signature.

When Madara finally speaks, he is so quiet that Itachi can barely hear him – aside from that, though, his voice is the same as it always has been. Low, and coming in a disturbingly insidious, almost serpentine hiss. "It has been quite a long time, Itachi."

Itachi says nothing, merely inclining his head a fraction of an inch. With Madara, the less said, the better.

Madara does not like this; displeasure twists his gaunt features for the barest of moments, although his tone is as carefully controlled as ever. "Have you come any closer to accomplishing your assigned objective?"

Itachi is careful to ensure that his tone is as self-assured and smooth as Madara's. "…I have been gathering information regarding the current regime," he lies effortlessly.

Madara shifts slightly in his chair, his dissatisfaction evident. "Zetsu and Kisame," he says, at length, "have been gathering followers in Grass for the past half year – it is likely that they will be able to overthrow the current leader and establish Zetsu as the new Kage by the end of the month. Kakuzu is in the same position, in Waterfall. After the coup in Grass is complete, Hidan will assist Kisame in becoming Mizukage, and Kisame will likely achieve that status by the beginning of next year. Even Deidara has made a small amount of progress in Stone. It will be the most difficult for Sasori, in Sand – but he has been working toward his goal, as well."

The weight of the words left unsaid lies heavily between them, and Itachi matches Madara's glare with an equally intimidating one of his own. "I have stated on numerous prior occasions that I want nothing whatsoever to do with my former village," he replies tersely.

"Neither does Sasori," Madara counters implacably. "Regardless, each Akatsuki member will assume control of and become Kage of their former village – that was the operation decided after the destruction of the statue that held the bijuu. This way, despite our failure to harness the power of the jinchiruuki, the world will still come directly under our control."

"Hidan's former village is inactive," Itachi returns immediately. "Instead of aiding Kakuzu in Waterfall, he may claim Konoha."

The reaction is immediate; Madara's eyes flash a deadly crimson. "You forget your place – that is not for you to decide."

There are a few moments of tense stillness between them, and, accurately reading the expression on his once-protégé's face, the elder Uchiha subtly switches gears, his tone becoming softer, more persuasive. "Have you forgotten who it was that came up with the idea of suppressing the ambitions of the Uchiha clan once and for all?

—And, at this, Itachi's fingers tighten around the arms of his chair slightly, despite his best attempts at maintaining his customary emotionless façade.

A soft smirk twists one corner of Madara's lips upon noting the oh-so-predictable reaction; after all, there always has been only one way to get under the younger Uchiha's skin. "Do you not desire revenge, Itachi?" he murmurs. "Not even a little?

Part of Itachi is desperately trying to shrink away from the calculated re-surfacing of these long-suppressed memories, because this part of him knows that he is being shamelessly manipulated, but – he is listening, now. And Madara knows it.

"Would being Konoha's Hokage be so very terrible?" he asks quietly. "You know that our noble bloodline was always destined to rule the village – even from my time. Things have come full circle, now; it is vulnerable, and you can easily take it. We will remake it into what it should have been from the very beginning…and the Uchiha clan will rule once more."

A strange sort of irony flickers through Itachi's charcoal-gray eyes. "There is no Uchiha clan."

The words would have been as devoid of emotion as usual, if they hadn't caught in Itachi's throat by the ending of the sentence, and Madara brushes his fingers over the top of the faint rectangular outline of the object resting at his elbow. "That could be easily rectified," he murmurs, sounding all to satisfied with himself.

Before the statement even has time to fully register, the Bingo Book slides fully across the table – already open squarely to page ten. Itachi tenses even further in an immediate response, and when he looks up at Madara again, his eyes are a dangerous, bladed shade of blood red. "What—" he hisses, his voice pitching lower and more venomous.

Madara only shakes his head, talking over him in his customary sibilant hiss. "Pretty little thing, isn't she?" he inquires, his tone heavy with all sorts of implications. "Extremely talented, as well. Just sixteen, and already A-ranked and jounin level; also possesses the capacity to surpass her mentor, the Godaime Hokage, if she has not already." He pauses for a moment, letting it sink in. "…She is rather close to Naruto Uzumaki, the aspiring future Rokudaime Hokage, as well. Naturally, considering her background, Sakura would know all sorts of information that another aspiring Rokudaime could find highly useful."

Part of him realizes the truth in what Madara is saying, but… "She would never—" Itachi begins, but Madara shakes his head dismissively.

"Not consciously; too loyal for that, I suppose," he considers out loud. "However, one of your more creative genjutsu, in conjunction with any other of the more…conventional…methods of extracting information from a young girl, would prove to be highly effective."

Interestingly enough, Madara immediately notes, these words also do their part to trigger one of those extraordinarily rare, subtle physical reactions from the younger Uchiha. Itachi's eyes are icy with cold disdain, although, for the briefest of seconds, Madara also discerns something else – an emotion a little darker, more intense – and hastily suppressed by the conscious mind.

Again, a slight smirk tugs at the corner of his thin lips, as he finally realizes that Itachi might just have another pressure point. _So, it's like that, Itachi_?

He pushes the metaphorical knife a bit further, slowly twisting the blade between the Uchiha prodigy's ribs, as he reclaims the Bingo Book and makes a point of Sakura's image with a little too much interest. "Pink hair and green eyes," Madara says quietly, his words almost lost in the sound of the rain. "Such wonderfully exotic good looks, as well."

Despite his best efforts, Itachi cannot help but shift slightly in his chair, unable to disguise how uncomfortable he feels at this turn in their conversation.

Madara only continues the strategic assault, knowing with a cold certainty that he has the younger shinobi right where he wants him. "Tell me, Itachi," he begins abruptly, "how does it feel to live life without a purpose?"

Itachi blinks at the apparent non sequitur, before his gaze regains its usual cold guardedness. All of a sudden, he knows where Madara is going with this, and—

Kami, he cannot even tell himself to resist, because he cannot deny that it is absolutely true. For five years straight, _ever single one_ of his actions and thoughts had been motivated by his goal of dying at Sasuke's hands, so that Sasuke could once again restore honor to the Uchiha name. And he had succeeded in that, so that when he had died, at the hands of his own younger brother, he had been truly happy, for the first time in years.

_Tell me, what do you do when you have fulfilled your purpose in life, and you die immediately afterward with no regrets – and, not even two months later, you are brought back for no apparent reason? When your entire previous existence has been totally dominated by one goal, what do you live for when that has been completed? How many times will you sit up all night and wonder why you were forced back here, when all you want to do is go back from where you came? How many times will you bitterly wonder what is in store for you, now? You are a clan-killing, disgraced former prodigy, an S-class criminal wanted in five countries, and a member of the most infamous organization in shinobi history. Some would say that this is a chance for redemption. An undreamt-of miracle. A divine opportunity. _

_How do you reinvent yourself, after almost twenty-one years of this set existence? You will never be able to start over as a civilian and live some sort of mundane, ordinary life – no, that is a laughable thought. You will just stay awake, night after night, and dread the thousands of long, fathomless, purposeless, empty days that await you. _

"…Think about it, Itachi," Madara almost purrs, inhumanly satisfied with the sheer degree of confliction clearly reflected in the younger Uchiha's eyes. "You are one of the three most talented shinobi in the entire history of the Fire Country. You were born to be a leader; to wield unimaginable power. Together, we could lead Konoha – and, in the greater scheme of things, the world – into greatness unlike anything it has ever seen before."

Once again, a few long, tense moments of silence reign in the darkened room. "I refuse to be your puppet," Itachi replies, at last, through gritted teeth. "Your ambitions are not my own."

"Then what are, Itachi?" Madara returns, his tone oddly knowing. When the other man remains stubbornly silent, he slowly redirects his gaze to the open Bingo Book in front of him. "…Or perhaps _she _has a part in them, hm?"

Itachi's eyes narrow even further. "I am afraid I do not follow your meaning," he replies coldly.

"Predictably enough," Madara murmurs, taking his time with the words, "_your _little kunoichi is one of Naruto Uzumaki's many devoted supporters. However, the boy is kept occupied wit his training in Waterfall – where Kakuzu and Hidan will soon have free reign. That Jiraiya should prove little opposition…and what could anybody do if a little accident happened to befall the Uzumaki during his training? Neither he nor Jiraiya have any experience in the usage of medical ninjutsu, and of course, Sakura is with you."

Itachi says nothing. _Can _say nothing, because this makes so much sense, even though he doesn't want it to.

"Of course, little Sakura would undoubtedly be terribly depressed after hearing about Naruto's tragic death," Madara continues, now sounding almost bored. "Both at the loss of her teammate and best friend, and because then, there would be nobody to overthrow Danzou's regime." He fixes Itachi with an unblinking stare, once again. "And that is where you come in. She will be at her most vulnerable, and in the absence of her dear Naruto to take Danzou's place, _you _will be her – and the rest of Konoha's – salvation…regardless of all previously held ideals about Akatsuki motivations."

"I strongly believe that you are underestimating several crucial points in this operational outline," Itachi replies, forcing himself to keep his tone as cool and detached as possible. "Namely—"

"It will be difficult, yes," Madara responds smoothly. "But not impossible in the least. Just allow yourself to envision the end results."

"And that would be?"

In response to the steely bite of the inquiry, Madara only smiles a little – which, somehow, manages to be even more unsettling than his twisted smirk, as his fingers brush over the pages of the book in front of him. "What a striking picture it would make – the Rokudaime Hokage, who just happens to be one of the last three living Uchiha…and his beautiful medic-nin wife, taught by Tsunade herself. Konoha would fear you and love her, and it would be perfect."

For the briefest of moments, Itachi is nothing but utterly tongue-tied. He cannot say anything, he can't think about rebuttals or logistics or retaliatory statements—

The genjutsu is so subtle that Itachi actually does not realize that he is under the influence of one in the first place; it melts in that seamlessly with his own subconscious thoughts. It is the Uchiha compound – namely, the kitchen in the clan heads' manor, the one that Mikoto had renovated herself and taken so much pride in – as it had been six years ago; elegant, perfect, whole, _alive_. Red and gold sunset streaming in through the wide, ceiling-to-floor, clear windows, reflecting into the warm, light brown wood décor of the room. And Sakura fits into this vision just perfectly; not sixteen-year-old Sakura, but Sakura as she will be about six or seven years from now. Despite her snow-white, form-fitting medic-nin's coat, and the look of obvious exhaustion on her face as she leans against one marble counter tiredly, stifling a yawn, maturity has developed her good looks even further – she is enough to make his breath catch in his throat, a little. Her attention is entirely trained on something beyond Itachi's line of vision, though, with soft affection unlike anything he has yet seen, written on every one of her features.

He thinks he blinks once, and misses something, because in the next second, Sakura isn't alone any longer.

Naturally, it is strange, seeing himself six years older. But his physical features are not what Itachi focuses on; rather, the Kage's cloak that he wears – except that it is in Akatsuki black and red, instead of red and white. And then such trivial matters are beyond him, as Itachi watches _himself_ step forward, gently taking Sakura in his arms. She smiles at him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders in greeting, much as she does now, and they exchange a few soft, unheard words, before easing into a slow, tender kiss.

It looks so natural that it is almost heartbreaking; like it is something that they have done a million times before. It is something that he _needs _to tear his eyes away from, to break the genjutsu, and when he comes out of it, Itachi is breathing a little raggedly, and he has to rake his fingers through his hair, scraping his nails against his scalp, so that the tiny pricks of pain somewhat help in regaining his composure. His pulse is pounding in his ears, and he has never felt so—

"Pretty, isn't it?" Madara inquires, almost solicitously. But then he smirks once more, and even in his thoroughly rattled state of mind, the small gesture sends cold shivers down the length of Itachi's spine. "…And, of course, just think about the _children_."

Suddenly, the last piece of this puzzle, of Madara's overarching objective in all of this, falls into place – and before he even realizes what he is doing, Itachi's bloodline limit evolves into the Mangekyou, lethal intent written all over his normally impassive features. His words catch in his throat, though, and wither and die, as he involuntarily remembers Orochimaru's attempts to use his own body as a host, so many years ago—

Then, he is across the room, pinning Madara to the wall by the throat, and Itachi becomes vaguely aware that he is breathing even more heavily, now. "It won't work," he hisses, his voice like the bite of cold steel. "I have no such interest in her whatsoever."

For the first time in their little exchange, Madara's eyes flash with open malevolent intent. "Really, Itachi?" he hisses back. "_Really_?"

This genjutsu is even faster, even more vicious in its assault, and it is both achingly slow and far too fast. It is Itachi, back in his (too humid, likely because the window has been left open) hotel room in Lightning, with Sakura – brushing his fingers against her dampened hair, which is thrown up into a messy ponytail…which, in turn, does its part to call attention to the very liberal amount of bare skin exposed by her emerald-green silk camisole and short black shorts. She is standing on the tips of her toes, brushing her small hands over the length of his chest until they meet and intertwine behind his neck, and—

"I missed you so much," she whispers, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the sensitive skin over the pulse point of his neck. In response, Itachi gives a low, almost strangled purr of satisfaction, slipping his hands up the clinging silk of her top, so that his cool, long-boned fingers trace abstract patterns on the abstract skin at the small of her back…

Then, it is suddenly too cold, and the room is different – bare, save for a bed shoved into one corner, and a dresser moved against the opposite wall, along with a large mirror, mounted on the top of it. Sakura is dressed in her customary outfit this time, standing in front of the mirror, and her eyes are closed, lashes fluttering ever so slightly. Itachi is standing behind her, now, his arms wrapped around her slender waist, holding her close, and tiny, visible shivers run down the length of her body as he presses slow, tentative kisses down the side of her neck. Sakura trembles when his teeth scrape against her sensitive skin on accident, and then she twists against him all of a sudden, pushing against his arms impatiently. Itachi isn't sure how, but he seems to know what she wants – and he closes his eyes for a moment, taking in and reveling in the slight pull of metal against metal as he gently pulls the zipper on the top of her customary crimson vest all the way down. Sakura arches against his hands, then, trying to further the contact and gasping a little, as she shrugs her top off, so that it falls to the cold wooden floor as she turns to face him—

Before Itachi can even blink, the scene changes again – they are back in their room in Lightning, and it is _still_ too humid, but that is perhaps the last thing on his mind as he threads his fingers through Sakura's hair again. Her fingernails are scraping against his back so hard that it almost hurts, but their hearts are pounding in perfect sync, their breaths ragged, when not entirely formed through desperately kiss-stifled moans, and—

"…Interesting," Madara muses out loud, and then there is nothing except the two of them in the darkened conference room. "You do truly want her, then – it would not have had such an overwhelming effect on you if you did not."

Itachi is slowly, surely, starting to feel incensed all over again, like he needs to curl his fingers around Madara's throat and tighten and twist and savor every one of his last, strangled gasps for breath – but kami, he cannot _do _anything about it; not when he can still feel Sakura's strawberry-glossed lips against his, the curves of her body underneath his hands when she had arched into his touch—

He has not felt this intensely sensitized in years; not since the last time, with Shisui. He cannot seem to think in a straight line, and he slowly becomes aware of the fact that he is sitting down again, his elbows braced against the table, his fingers buried in his hair, still panting slightly.

Knowing that Itachi will never be more vulnerable than he is right now, Madara slinks back into his seat across from the Uchiha prodigy. "Just listen, Itachi," he whispers silkily. "Konoha needs a _real _ruler. You need to take advantage of this opportunity to fulfill the true inheritance of this bloodline…and indulge in your one personal desire. And, as for myself – this body is slowly deteriorating. I need a new host, and I will settle for nothing less than a member of the newest generation of the Uchiha clan."

Itachi's eyes are flickering back and forth between their customary charcoal gray and crimson, in a pointed display of emotional instability, but in that instant, Madara knows just what he has to do to get what he wants.

And when he speaks again, it is in Sakura's voice. Not the seductive way she had purred Itachi's name during the earlier illusions, but in that soft, half pleading, half flirtatious tone she uses when she is trying her hardest to convince him to do something – like try some of her strawberry pocky, or _not _Katon a hole right through a pair of elevator doors.

"Say yes, Itachi?"

Just like that, the next level of the genjutsu kicks in, and in the next second, Itachi even feels like his lap is being straddled by an invisible, perfectly Sakura-sized entity; there are even phantom fingers brushing against his hair, and the lightest of strawberry kisses against his lips, and he has to clench his fingers into white-knuckled fists in order to prevent himself from reaching for the girl he knows is not really there.

_No, no, no_—

"Yes," Itachi says, at last, the word coming out in a ragged gasp, and his eyes are haunted as he lifts them to meet Madara's impassive gaze. "Yes."

And Madara only smirks again. "Good."

-

_Lightning_

-

_Why is the house so freaking dark?_

Sakura cannot help but bite her lip unhappily, even as she draws a small sphere of illuminating chakra to her hand. The mint-green orb throws strange shadows over the walls, and she takes a deep breath, forcing herself to keep focused. It is the worst kind of weakness for somebody in her position, and on top of that, it is absolutely irrational, as well. What kind of kunoichi – what kind of _missing-nin_ – is afraid of the dark? She was never plagued with this fear back in Konoha, but now, it is a more or less constant feature of her life.

It is times like this when she misses Itachi.

Upon realizing that her traitorous mind has actually vocalized this forbidden sentiment, Sakura's left eye actually twitches in outright displeasure. Screw Itachi and his stupid _oh-look-at-me-I'm-going-to-totally-waste-my-second-lease-on-life-by-continuing-to-be-an-evil-Akatsuki-member-who-does-nothing-but-ruin-lives_…outlook. She can track down this escaped convict by her own damned self, thank you very much.

Stupid Itachi.

One of the doors father down the hallway creaks, and Sakura's muscles stiffen a little as she cranes her neck in order to give it a cautious look. The once-fine manor has long since fallen into disrepair after the death of its original owners, and it is now simply covered in cobwebs and shadows and layers upon layers of choking dust. It's…more than a little creepy, honestly, especially as this expansive locale – which lacks basic safety amenities such as, you know, _locks_ – is now infamous for being a hiding place for various escaped criminals and other refugees from the law. In the entire time that Sakura has been here, though, she hasn't sensed so much as even a hint of a foreign chakra signature inside the mansion, but then again, she has only thoroughly explored the west wing—

As if on cue, something soft and subtle flares slightly, from the opposite end of the manor, and Sakura turns around sharply. It disappears the very second that she does so, but she's always been an adequate enough tracker to be able to follow it without a problem. She takes a deep, calming breath anyway, trying her best to steel her nerves, as she moves to the very side of the hallway, so that she is sheltered by the shadows.

Sakura makes her way to the east wing as fast as she can, while still managing to be as quiet as possible. There have been no other flares in that chakra pattern, so she can infer that he hasn't switched locations, which is good for her – and after a few minutes, the pink-haired kunoichi finds herself staring up at an absolutely massive pair of hand-carved wooden double doors that are a strange shade of stained dark red. The doors are barred shut, but she closes her eyes for a split second, double-checking to make sure that the entirety of her immense reserves of chakra are ready to be used; a habit that she has developed since her last encounter with the Root captain. When she opens her eyes again, they are firmly resolute, and in the next second, her punch nearly sends the solid doors flying off their hinges.

Sakura enters a little warily, throwing careful glances around her surroundings. It appears to be a ridiculously large drawing room of some sort, dominated by an immense circular table that is covered in at least ten layers of dust and cobwebs – but, strangely enough, there are no windows…and there doesn't seem to be anybody else in here, except for her. There aren't any apparent hiding places, either.

Before Sakura even has time to finish the thought, she is already slammed facefirst against the nearest wall – which had been about thirty feet away from her. Her knees weaken immediately, and she slides to the floor, her body going limp; despite the instinctive pretense of weakness, though, she immediately deduces that the impact against her back that had driven her into the wall…had felt like water. Like being slammed in the back with a fifty-gallon capacity hose, but the back of her vest is completely dry. Water jutsu, of course, which is just _wrong_, because the escaped convict she is supposed to be tracking down is just a civilian—

Whoever this is has to approach her, though, and Sakura even hears the distant footsteps in front of her, as she lets her head loll back against the wall at an odd angle. She is in "proper working condition," as Itachi would put it, of course, but she can afford to maintain the pretense until they are within striking distance.

It takes serious effort to prevent her muscles from tensing, though, as she feels whoever it is place their hands on her upper arms, gently easing her to her feet. This small gesture is the first thing that sends alarm bells ringing through Sakura's head – these hands aren't what she would expect from a typical shinobi or escaped convict. The fingers feel unusually delicate, the palms soft and uncalloused, as they lean her against the wall, before carefully brushing her bangs away from her forehead and checking for any wounds where she had slammed against the wall. Sakura holds her breath, trying her best to temper the temptation of looking out underneath lowered eyelids to see who the _hell _this is.

Then, however, this dilemma is taken out of her hands when the he-she-it-_thing_ holding her sighs impatiently. "What the hell, Suigetsu?" she – _definitely _a she, Sakura realizes immediately and a little wryly – snaps loudly. "That was totally unnecessary; you could have killed her or something!"

_So there are two of them. _

As if on cue, Sakura hears another set of footsteps approaching, and somebody else sighs, but this voice, when it comes, is distinctly male. "Do you have to be such a friggin' drama queen, Karin? She's fine. She's not even bleeding."

"Whatever," the Karin person exhales. "I think she's unconscious, though. Just pick her up and set her down on that table over there, and then we should probably go get – you know."

When Suigetsu makes to obey Karin without question, Sakura inwardly thanks the kami for whoever this unknown girl is, because she may not know it, but she's helping _so _much. Karin eases her into Suigetsu's arms, and Sakura can't help but observe that, for some reason, he smells like he's just taken a bath in saltwater or something – and, oh, she _seriously _can't wait to find who these two are and what they want with her.

She waits until she feels Suigetsu firmly behind her, and then, Sakura screws her eyes shut and counts to three.

Suigetsu never knew what hit him.

In actuality, it is Sakura's chakra-loaded right elbow, driven in a vicious strike into his ribs. Her eyes snap open immediately, and she is rewarded by the sound of six sharp cracks, a surprised shriek from Karin's direction, and the definite _slam _of Suigetsu flying back and colliding with the wall.

Sakura spins around in that exact instant, poised to strike farther – but then she stops dead, her eyes widening.

It turns out that the half-unconscious and saltwater-smelling shinobi who is lying limply against the wall is actually kind of familiar – dressed as he is in those light lavender clothes, and that memorable mid-back-length white hair, not to mention the sword strapped across his back…and the tall kunoichi, as well, with her distinctive, flame-red hairstyle—

Suigetsu and Karin. Two of the four shinobi she had seen in that glade a week ago.

Two members of Sasuke's team.

For a few moments, it actually feels like Sakura's heart stops as she and Karin just stare at each other incredulously.

"What the hell—"

The two kunoichi stop dead as they realize that they had both said the words at the same time, but then Karin glares at her, rushing ahead so much that she has difficulty not tripping over her words. "You were _unconscious_!" she accuses heatedly, circling Sakura like a lioness on the hunt. "And I think you killed Suigetsu, too—"

Sakura can't help but feel a little amused by the righteous indignation in the other girl's tone. "I faked," she replies easily. "It's what medic-nin do. And…Suigetsu's not dead – his ribs are just fractured."

Karin raises an eyebrow in acknowledgement of the words, and for another few moments, the two kunoichi just size each other up warily; but surprisingly enough, Sakura finds that she is the first one to break the silence. "Look," she says bluntly, and Karin blinks in surprise. "I don't necessarily want to fight you. Just let me go, and we're not going to have any problems."

Karin actually snorts at this, flipping the longer side of her hair back over her shoulders and giving the ex-Leaf kunoichi an appraising look. "Yeah, that's funny. Sasuke wants to see you, and he's not going to take no for an answer."

For the second time that day, one of Sakura's eyes actually gives a little tic out of sheer irritation. "Yeah, well," she retorts immediately, too irritated even to think about how immature this sounds. "_I _don't want to see _him_." _…So he can just put that in his juice box and suck it! _Inner Sakura completes gleefully.

…And, in response, Karin just stares at her, obviously aghast at the information that has just been divulged. "Why the hell not?" she blurts, before looking somewhat stunned at herself for being so blunt with a total stranger.

Sakura knows that this is terribly irrational on her part, but for some reason, she actually giggles a little. Watching her, even Karin's haughty features are touched by a similar hint of amusement, although the red-haired kunoichi quickly tries to school them back into obedience. "Look…Sakura," she says, a little grudgingly, after the two of them have quieted down somewhat. "I don't think I want to fight you, either. But I'm not going to let you go – whatever it is that Sasuke wants with you…don't you think you can just get it over with? Because he isn't going to let it go until he gets what he wants, even if it means that _we _have to follow you to the ends of the earth—"

Sakura rolls her eyes a little, even though she is able to admit the sense in what Karin is saying. The thought of Sasuke pursuing her with such devotion makes her emotions spin far too much, and her heart is suddenly pounding at the thought of confronting Sasuke, after so long, and her palms are getting clammy, but—

"…Okay," she replies, although to her displeasure, her voice comes out a little smaller than she would have liked.

Surprisingly, Karin gives her a look that is almost sympathetic, as she jerks her chin toward the table. "You should probably…" she begins. "I mean, Sasuke kind of expected Suigetsu and I to force you into it, not have a kind-of rational conversation about…"

"Yeah, I get it," Sakura replies, trying her best to keep her tone as casual and offhanded as possible.

There is a slightly awkward silence between the two kunoichi, as Karin tries her best to battle her intense curiosity and Sakura tries _her _best to battle her sudden, relentless case of nerves. "Okay, well," Karin says abruptly, turning away. "I'm going to go get him, so…"

Karin stares at her expectantly, and Sakura sighs again, rolling her eyes as she does so. It seems like she's been getting a _lot _of this lately. "I won't go anywhere," she replies reluctantly. "You can trust me."

Karin turns back to her and nods, looking serious. "…Thanks."

Despite the sheer horrible-ness of this situation as is, Sakura can't help but realize that Karin could easily have made it one hundred times more difficult. "Hey, Karin?" she calls, when the other girl is halfway out of the door. "…You too."

It could just be the shadows of the hallway outside, but for the briefest of seconds, Sakura can actually swear that Karin smiles at her, a little, before the solid doors close again. Shutting her in with an unconscious Suigetsu and later…with Sasuke.

As Sakura slowly makes her way over to the circular table, she actually does almost feel nauseous – enough for her to feel glad that she hadn't eaten anything after that waffle. She won't attempt to escape, after promising Karin that she wouldn't; besides, it is all too likely that that other member of Sasuke's team, not to mention _Sasuke_ himself, are lurking somewhere within the manor…and she definitely wouldn't look forward to running into either of them in a dark hallway.

Her heart is fluttering a little, now, almost like a nervous butterfly, as she rubs her hands over the dusty table in absentminded, almost mechanical movements. She desperately wishes it was less dark in here.

Lowering herself onto the table is…uncomfortable, as well. The wood is too hard against her back and the rest of her body, and Sakura shifts positions a little, stifling the urge to bite her lip. All of her instincts are screaming that this puts her in far too vulnerable of a position, one that she _definitely_ doesn't want to be in, around Sasuke—

Sakura has to close her eyes, in an attempt to calm herself – besides, she is supposed to be unconscious, or something like that. She can't seem to think in a straight line, and despite her best efforts, her body just doesn't seem to be cooperating with her mind's orders to stay calm.

Sakura isn't sure how long she lies there. Rationale tells her that it cannot be too long, but it _feels_ like an eternity.

And then she hears the door open.

_Ohkami—_

Sakura instructs herself firmly, _desperately_, not to panic. She is an A-ranked kunoichi; the former apprentice of the Godaime Hokage, yes, but no shinobi training has ever prepared her for something like this.

She doesn't dare opening her eyes, even as she feels the footsteps getting closer and closer to the table. Her medical instincts have kicked in, though, and from the steady rate of her breathing, she knows that she looks flawlessly unconscious.

Sakura doesn't anticipate his touch, and, at first, she wonders if it is a hallucination brought on by her increased state of nervousness. It is feather-light, but that slightest brush of his calloused fingertips against the skin of her temples as he brushes a few locks of hair out of her face, sends hastily repressed, entirely pleasurable, shivers down the length of her entire body. She doesn't dare to open her eyes, or to make a single movement, but she can just _feel _him standing beside her.

Sakura's pulse jumps frantically as Sasuke's hand gently slides toward the side of her face, so that he is lightly tracing the line of her jaw – and then, every hair on the back of her neck stands up as she feels him bend over her, so that his lips just barely hover over the sensitive skin of her right ear.

His voice is lower than she remembers, almost identical to Itachi's – and it is also a little hoarser, and not so guarded. "You don't have to pretend, Sakura."

She jumps. She actually jumps; sitting bolt upright – and, in a potential sign that she just has _terrible_ luck with both Uchiha brothers, nearly bashes Sasuke's head against her own in the process. It is only his lightning-quick reflexes that saves him, and in the next second, his long, cool fingers wrap around her wrist, holding her firmly in place.

And, for the first time in _so _long, after everything that has happened, Sasuke and Sakura lock gazes.

She had been about to say something; she is sure of it. But then the words die in her throat, and she just stares at him wordlessly. And, for once, Sasuke looks similarly lost for words.

"Are you alright?"

Sakura just blinks in a response to the somewhat awkward inquiry, and in the next moment, she pulls her wrist free of Sasuke's grip. "Absolutely lovely," she replies acidly. "And you?"

Sasuke looks slightly thrown at her tone, and he takes a step back, before inclining his head a fraction of an inch. "Fine."

They are both silent for a few moments, and then Sakura swings her legs off the table, still somewhat unsure of _how _exactly to feel. "Well, then, now that we have that settled," she says coldly. "I'll just be going now."

And, just like that, Sasuke is in front of her, effectively blocking her exit. He makes no move to restrain her physically, but the intensity in his eyes is enough to give her pause. "…No."

It has been an _insanely_ difficult day, even before this, but now, Sakura's nerves have reached their breaking point. "What the hell do you mean, _no_?" she almost screeches, and it is a tribute to Sasuke's skills as a shinobi that he is able to dodge the neck-breaking punch that had been aimed at his jaw.

Then, with just a blur of motion, Sakura finds her hands pinned behind her back, and Sasuke leans in, over her back, so that his chin almost brushes her shoulder. She tenses immediately, but there is no force in his grip, and no threat in his voice – just soft, almost uncertain curiosity. "Have you been alone for all this time?"

"I don't appreciate the interrogation," Sakura snaps back angrily.

His hands tighten around her wrists ever so slightly. "Just answer the question, Sakura."

She had known she _blamed_ him for everything that went wrong, yes, but this bitter, acidic resentment is something new, burning in her throat. At the same time, some rational part of her realizes that she can't answer this truthfully; she has to derail him from this dangerous topic. "What's it to you?" she spits. "It certainly didn't bother you the first time around, did it?"

Now, Sasuke moves to stand in front of her – and, luckily enough, she seems to have succeeded in her goal. "I – you weren't alone," he counters, but maybe it is just her experience in reading Itachi, but Sakura can see that he is now just as uncomfortable as she is. "You still had Naruto and Kakashi—"

Sakura laughs scornfully, pushing him away and sliding off the table as she steps closer to him; unconsciously cornering him against the nearest wall. "Yeah. Keep telling yourself that. You just have _no _idea what you did, do you?"

For the first time, a flash of anger makes its way through Sasuke's charcoal-gray eyes, and in the next second, Sakura catches her breath, as she finds herself pressed back against the wall, with Sasuke holding her by the wrists. "I do," he breathes, their noses barely an inch apart, and Sakura feels her eyes widen at their proximity. "I broke your heart, didn't I?"

This time, the tears almost do spill over, and Sakura tries her best to struggle against his grip. "Shut up," she gasps, feeling so furious and hurt that she could gladly just jump on him and strangle him with her bare hands. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

Sasuke just holds her tighter, watching her closely, and the anger is gone now, replaced by something that could almost pass as sorrow or regret or something else that Sakura is certain that he _can't _feel. "I did," he murmurs, and he is so close that Sakura can count every single one of his long, sooty eyelashes. "…And it was a mistake."

It takes a long time for these words to register, and when they do, at first, neither Sasuke or Sakura makes a move.

She isn't sure which one of them initiates it, but it feels so _perfect _that it's stunning. Sakura is vaguely certain that she has dreamed about this for years upon years, and…it never even came close to what the real thing is proving to be.

_Sasuke kisses like Itachi._

Sakura doesn't know where the thought comes from – it just seems to materialize out of nowhere, out of the softly contented blankness that had settled out of her mind. And, in all honesty, she tries to push it away immediately afterward. She shouldn't be thinking about Itachi while kissing Sasuke.

But, after a few moments, she can't seem to think of anything else. She is exactly a head shorter than Sasuke, and in reflection, it feels a little off, not as perfect as it did at first. But she _wants_ it to feel perfect like it had been, like everything should be.

At last, Sasuke pulls away ever so slightly, and their foreheads rest against each other's, as they just stare into the other's eyes, both of them unsure of what to say or do.

"Come with me, Sakura," Sasuke murmurs, at last. His voice is even hoarser than before, more raw emotion within it than she has ever heard from him. "You won't have to be alone any longer – Juugo is sweet; you'll like him…and Suigetsu and Karin can be annoying as all hell, but they're alright, really."

Despite her better judgment, Sakura just leans closer, letting Sasuke hold her close. She feels so conflicted that she can barely think straight, but she knows what she has to do.

"Yes," she replies quietly, her voice muffled by the fire-scented skin of his neck. "I will."

Sasuke looks down at her, and for a fleeting second, she can swear that he gives her the smallest of smiles. "Good," he whispers huskily, before leaning down again, gently angling his head toward hers.

This time, Sakura closes her eyes and lets herself enjoy it for ten seconds exactly.

Then, she slowly reaches up, wrapping her arms around his neck. Tracing her fingers down the sensitive skin there, and eliciting the softest of tiny purrs from Sasuke.

Like Suigetsu, he never knew what hit him.

Like Sasuke had, three years ago, she pushes her fingers into the pressure point at the base of his neck, hard. Unconsciousness is immediate, and her knees buckle under the weight of catching him.

Sakura doesn't know how exactly she manages to support him on their way back to the table, before settling him down on it carefully. She cannot bring herself to leave immediately, though, and in the end, she brushes a few locks of hair out of his face, just as he had done to her, before bending down and pressing a soft, chaste kiss to his cheek.

"…Thank you, Sasuke," Sakura whispers, and it takes all of her strength to keep her voice from breaking.

And in the next second, she is gone.

-

She blatantly skips out on the mission; doesn't even make an attempt to find the escaped convict that she had been assigned. Sakura just goes back to the hotel room in Lightning and sits on the floor for the longest time. She had forgotten to close the window before she had left, and now, by nightfall, it is unbearably humid.

Sakura takes a cold shower that doesn't help with anything, and does nothing to reduce the tightness in her throat or the persistent burning in the very back of her eyes. Her skin is as flushed and overheated as it had been earlier, and out of sheer desperation, she upends her bag in the bathroom sink, before extricating her emerald-green silk camisole and short black shorts from the pile of clothing. Itachi isn't here, anyway, so there isn't any harm in it.

It is late by the time she crawls under the covers, nursing a pounding headache and thanking all the kami that this horrible day is over. Sakura lies awake for the longest time, and she isn't sure when it is that she finally falls into a fitful sleep. Her dreams, when they come, are just as restless and unpleasant; they are vague and disturbing, with a strangely genjutsu-like quality to them, but she is too troubled to think that last point through any further.

-

The first thing Itachi does when he materializes in their room in Lightning again is wish that he could be far, far away. Because it is just like the genjutsu that Madara had inflicted on him earlier – down to such minute details as the humidity and kami, Sakura's _clothes._

Except that he is too bone-weary to actually flee, and Itachi only makes his way over to the bed so that he can sit beside her. She is tossing and turning a little, and he freezes when he realizes that she has woken up. He instinctively moves to relocate himself to the floor in response, but Sakura only shakes her head drowsily as she pulls herself up into a sitting position, rubbing at her eyes blearily as she does so. She still feels far too disoriented in the aftermath of that strange dream, but part of her is just glad that he's here.

Itachi stiffens even further when Sakura curls herself closer to him, setting her head on his shoulder. "How was your day?" she asks softly, sounding so tired and emotionally drained that he is sure that she won't remember this exchange tomorrow.

A small, ironic smirk twists the corner of Itachi's lips as he wraps an arm around her, easing her against his chest – completely platonically, of course. "…Uneventful," he lies quietly.

"Yeah," Sakura whispers back, nestling more comfortably into his light hold, so that he won't see her blink the tears away. "Mine, too."

* * *

_to be continued_

* * *

Well. I'll bet you didn't see that coming! :D Thank you to the ever-amazing SwiftKick for her sweet editing job, as well. :) Otherwise there would have been weird typos galore, and nobody wants that.

For anybody who would appreciate a little bit of clarification: The aspect of Madara's exact plan regarding Itachi and Konoha is to have Naruto assassinated by Kakuzu and Hidan, so that Itachi can become Konoha's Hokage. Therefore, he (Madara) can help "reinvent" Konoha into what Madara feels that it should have been from the beginning. Madara also wants Itachi and Sakura to get married and have children; reestablishing the Uchiha clan, and especially so that Madara can pull an Orochimaru and take one of their kids as his new host body.

Last but not least, thank you so much to everybody who left well-wishes for my mother. She's still in the hospital, and will probably be for a while longer, until they find out what's wrong…but your kind words of support mean the world to me. :)


	13. Conflagration

_As always, thank you so much to everybody who was fabulous enough to review. :)_

_-_

_Chapter Thirteen: Conflagration_

_-_

Sakura wakes up knowing that she has a slight problem. Because normally, pillows do not mutate during the night to create—

She thinks on this issue for a few moments, before slowly, warily cracking one eye open.

Okay, so, it turns out that her pillow has _not_ undergone a weird mutation, which is always a bit of good news. It is simply that she happened to have neglected her pillow entirely during the course of the night, apparently instead opting to fall asleep nestled somewhere between Itachi's right shoulder and his chest.

How…pleasant.

Not.

It takes her vision a few moments to clear, losing its customary early-morning drowsy fog, but when it does, Sakura has to exercise all of her considerable self-control not to wince. Could this really _be_ any more awkward?

Her inner self answers this query for her in the next second, offering the opinion that, yes; it could have been a _hell _of a lot more awkward indeed, because Itachi could have been the one to wake up first. And undoubtedly he would find this just as mortifying as she does, although Sakura kind of has to beg to differ on that one. After all, he is just leaning innocently against the headboard; head braced against the wall, while _she _is the one who appears to have draped herself over him like some kind of far too affectionate and monstrously vibrant shag carpet.

Even though she is rather displeased that she couldn't have come up with a more dignified sort of metaphor, Sakura takes an excessive amount of care to keep her movements as slow and careful as possible as she attempts to untangle herself from her still-asleep partner – which is more difficult than she would have anticipated…especially as Itachi doesn't seem to have any intentions to cooperate in the least. To make matters worse, he is an extraordinarily light sleeper, and the second that she tries to unhook her left leg from around his hips, Itachi makes a small sound of displeasure in the back of his throat, before tightening his grip around the back of her thigh – which only serves to pull her closer against him.

At this, Sakura blushes so hard that it actually hurts, while determinedly deciding that maybe it would be best to take smaller steps, instead. This proves to be a much wiser course of action; she manages to ease her head off Itachi's chest without further incident. Humiliatingly enough, though, between the positioning of her traitorous leg and stupid head, she had ended up placing one hand squarely over his heart and wrapping the other one around his shoulders, and this location proves to be much more difficult to extricate herself from. By the end of this endeavor, Sakura is breathing as hard as she usually is after a long, hard sparring session, and her neck hurts from throwing paranoid _please-don't-wake-up _glances up at Itachi every few milliseconds.

In one quick, smooth movement, Sakura finally pulls her leg free of its rather compromising position, before collapsing as far away from him as she possibly can, with a long sigh of relief. Hell, that could have had the potential to be in the top seven most embarrassing moments of her entire _life._

Closing her eyes, Sakura lets her eyes drift shut again, although she is already far from tired. That had been stupid. That had been _so _incredibly asinine that it wasn't even funny. Had she not essentially sworn yesterday that she would let whatever stupid _thing_ that there was between her and Itachi die?

Eyes still closed, the pink-haired kunoichi momentarily frowns in confusion. She had sworn that, yes, and she had been perfectly resolute in it, as well. But from her faint memories of last night – well, she remembers some kind of dream; the details escape her, but she knows that Itachi was in it, and it had been troubling and pleasurable at the same time…an odd combination, by any means. She had woken up suddenly and abruptly, like she never does; like somebody else far away had just flipped some kind of switch inside her mind, and then Itachi had _been _there. Sakura's frown only becomes more pronounced as she thinks about it even more. It's a really stupid thing to consider, and it feels like something out of a lame horror movie…but it had really felt like something inside her, some lingering remnant of that dream, some vague, insidious voice, had pushed her to slink so very, unreasonably close to Itachi then, resting herself against him until she had felt the breath catch in his chest; until he had finally caved and curled an arm around her.

Biting her lip thoughtfully, Sakura pulls herself into a sitting position, now, drawing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. She directs another uncertain look over at Itachi, and wonders if it's just her imagination, or if there is something slightly off about him. For the first time since they had started traveling together, it looks like he's gone a little bit more than a day without shaving, resulting in a slight amount of five o' clock shadow, which, coupled with his unusually pale pallor, makes him look unsettlingly gaunt. The medic-nin in her immediately deduces that Itachi's breathing is a little too deep, for somebody as light a sleeper as he is, and more than a little too uneven. She examines him closely, then, sharp eyes sliding over everything that she can see of his body, but there are no signs of current or immediately prior physical or internal injury. After a few moments, she can assume that whatever strain this is has been caused by excessive usage or exposure to an intense form of genjutsu—

Again, Sakura thinks back to their little exchange last night, scowling a little as she does so. _Uneventful_. Right.

She slides off the bed and stalks toward the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind her firmly as she does so. After crossing the room in a few steps, she sinks down on the edge of the tub, closing her eyes and running her fingers through her impossibly tangled hair in frustration. Just who did Itachi think he was, lying to her like that? It kind of distresses Sakura in a way that she really doesn't want to admit to, because…she trusts him and she cares about him more than she should, yes, and the knowledge that he would be anything but completely honest with her just _hurts _so much_._ And, on top of that, she most definitely is not stupid, for the kami's sake; one would think he could just buck up and tell her the truth, like, "_Yes, well, Sakura, thank you for asking. The meeting with the rest of the Akatsuki was extremely productive; we made great gains toward our ultimate and callous and thoroughly coldhearted and _evil_ plan to take over the world. Perhaps when we finally obtain this goal and therefore, you know, destroy all forms of civilization and social structure as we know it, you can be my queen. Savvy?"_

Sakura snorts mirthlessly at the thought, pulling the ribbon that holds her disheveled ponytail out as she does so; both at the outlandish concept of Itachi asking her to be his _queen_, and at the idea that he would actually be honest with her about something like this.

In the next second, Sakura blinks, an idea rapidly occurring to her. Perhaps this is overly wishful thinking, but the only circumstances in which Itachi would have told her the truth was if he considered her to be completely worthless and _not _a threat in any way, shape, and form – which is an utterly unconscionable thought. Which, in turn, makes Sakura think that, if Itachi would go to the lengths of actively concealing the details of this latest Akatsuki plan to her…well, then, it _must_ mean that if she knew even a little about it (or at least, Itachi's part in it) she could do her part to screw it up.

This, of course, is quite the tempting prospect.

Sakura closes her eyes again, considering the idea further. Just because she happens to be kind of – affiliated – with Itachi this time (or plan for world domination) around, does _not_ mean that she is any way inclined to simply sit back and allow these events to unfold around her. Anything that she can do to stop it, she will. Regardless of the consequences. It could have implications for the future of her and Itachi's partnership or relationship or whatever – but there's a considerable possibility that whatever _this_ plan is, it runs a strong risk of endangering the people she holds dear, if not her as well. And since she might be in a position to stop it, that's a risk that she's not willing to take.

Slightly overwhelmed by this very idea, Sakura takes a deep, steadying breath, her mind kicking into overdrive. Of course, the first step would be to figure out the details of the plan in question, which will be a lot more difficult than it sounds – since; after all, her partner most definitely is not the type who would disclose it to her without a fight.

She and Itachi might have forged a tentative friendship in the past months, but still; they are not, nor will probably ever be, to a point where she can just sit him down and ask nicely, and he will tell her exactly what happens to be on his mind. This will likely require more finesse, and Sakura exhales slowly, wondering as to what could be her best plan of action. This objective – the subtle extraction of crucial information from a set target – has historically been a field dominated by kunoichi…for one reason only.

She bites her lip as the idea occurs to her. _Seducing Itachi?_

Sakura really isn't sure if the thought makes her nauseous, afraid, amused, or…slightly turned on, honestly. Even when looked at from a purely academic standpoint, it is still an intriguing idea. In the past few weeks, since the incident that had occurred between them before she left for Konoha – well, physically at least, Itachi seems to be getting a lot more comfortable with her. She is surprised that it hasn't occurred to her prior to this, really; when they had first met, he had a raging phobia of touch that reduced him to a quivering, near-nervous-breakdown state during that one time during the interrogation attempt, when she had literally jumped on him, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, and she had felt his pulse skyrocket_. _His reaction to the stimulus or even sight of touch, until recently, had been unlike anything she had ever seen or read about before.

Well – they are hardly ever in positions where they witness _other_ people touching, even casually, like brushing up against one another in crowds, but now that she thinks about it, Itachi still kind of flinches when he witnesses or experiences that, as well. And yet when he is with her; when he had been healing the slash on her arm received by the Cloud-nin, when he had held her and they had almost kissed yesterday, and not to mention that entire episode last night and earlier this morning – _then_, it seems like touching doesn't bother him at all. It is strange and inconsistent behavior on his part, and maybe—

Maybe he's just getting used to her.

Sakura shrugs to herself, propping her chin up in her hand pensively. It seems to be the likeliest option.

Honestly, though…admitting it is a bit painful, but Sakura really doesn't think she has what it takes to seduce Itachi, or _anybody_, for that matter. She can fully repair ruptured internal organs in a matter of minutes, extract deadly poison that has taken root in the human body with a few carefully executed motions of one chakra-covered hand, and smash walls of solid concrete to dust with her fingertips. But she has none of the special kind of knowledge required to fulfill the traditional role of a kunoichi; she can't use her body (her too slim, too not-voluptuous body, Inner Sakura ruthlessly reminds her) and femininity to manipulate a male shinobi into divulging any crucial information, and even though Sakura tries to tell herself to be comfortable with the skills she _does_ have, this knowledge does sting a little.

Sighing to herself, she presses her fingers to the sides of her forehead, gently massaging the growing ache in her temples. The physical stimulation is pleasant, but it isn't enough to combat what promises to be a hell of a tension headache, and Sakura sends a soft pulse of chakra right through her fingertips. It immediately diffuses inside the brain, relaxing the strained nerve centers, and—

Sakura freezes, and just like that, it comes to her.

She stands up immediately, and starts pacing back and forth, her bare feet shivering a little against the cold tiles of the floor, and her mind immediately whirs into overdrive, once again.

That's it. That's the _key _to everything. To getting the answers that she needs.

Sakura _knows_ that Itachi underestimates her, and that's a fact. They have never seriously fought against one another at any time in the past, even when they had been on opposing sides, and the side of her that he most frequently sees is the part that is just a normal sixteen-year-old girl, who, despite everything, is unlucky to the point of being cursed by higher powers. Therefore, prone to embarrassing blunders and mistakes and clumsiness and who sometimes gets into nasty situations because of said blunders, mistakes, and clumsiness. Who, incidentally enough, happens to be often helped out of the nasty situations in question by her ever-ambiguous partner.

Sakura stops in front of the mirror, staring back into her reflection absentmindedly. By this point, Itachi is well aware of the immense degree and exact nature of the physical strength granted to her by her exceptional chakra control, having witnessed it on numerous occasions during various assignments that they have undertaken. He knows that she can heal every conceivable kind of external wound and extract poisons with minimal effort – as a matter of fact, he seems to have copied a wide range of her medical techniques.

Contrary to popular belief, Tsunade's immense strength and the incredible effect it has on her fighting style is _not _what had brought Sakura to that coveted A ranking. Neither had the field-healing techniques that had saved more than a few lives on the missions that she had done while still in Konoha.

The pink-haired kunoichi looks down at her open right palm contemplatively, watching a spark of her chakra flare to the surface.

They aren't techniques that she likes to use, by any means. They aren't techniques that she even likes to _think_ about. But, her precise chakra control combined with her expertise in medical ninjutsu, means that they are techniques that she happens to be a natural at. They can still beating hearts; boil blood within an enemy's body. A few hand seals can splinter every bone in the body – a painful way to go. Rupturing organs is more of the same.

These were some of the last lessons that Tsunade-shishou had taught her. She had spent an entire day on this particular one, which had been quite different from the others. _"It's unconventional_," she said. _"I don't know if you'll ever be in a position to use it, but it's a great weapon to have in your arsenal._"

"_This requires quite a bit more intimacy than the other techniques I've taught you, so…whoever your target is, Sakura – he has to truly trust you in order for you to do this._"

Sakura picks up her comb with slightly shaking fingers, running it through her hair a little unsteadily.

Itachi trusts her. She would bet her life on it.

He's prone to headaches. Even though his eyes are no longer weakened in the least, the one physical residual of his previous life is that Itachi just seems to be extraordinarily susceptible to tension headaches. They happen almost every day as a result of stress, lack of sleep, and irregular meals, and it usually results in one to two hours of an extremely cranky and continuously tea-drinking Itachi. Not a pretty sight by any means.

Itachi has never asked for her help in this before, although Sakura suspects that it is just because he is far too prideful for that. But if she were to _offer…_

He would say yes, especially if she worked it from the angle that the irritation and tension caused by his headache would interfere with their productivity and capacity to carry out whatever assignment that they have planned today. And, after all, she _is_ a fully qualified medic-nin, and he couldn't hope for any better treatment.

It leaves a slightly bitter taste in her mouth, one that her peppermint-flavored toothpaste does nothing to conceal; the idea of abusing her position of authority in the medical field and violating the oath that all medic-nin take at the beginning of their training, as well as that of intentionally manipulating her partner like this.

If she lets herself touch the temples at the side of his forehead, as well as the front of his forehead itself, a few pulses of chakra will give him some preliminary relaxation, to make the healing process easier for both of them. A few more will get rid of the pain entirely. About three more, executed subtly and simultaneously, if carefully controlled and directed to the right centers of the brain…will lower inhibitions considerably, and lower all guards. She can put Itachi under, essentially – it's almost like a state of hypnotism, where he will be powerless to summon the mental capacity to lie to any of the questions that she asks. And the best part of all is that when Sakura withdraws, with one more well-placed pulse of chakra, Itachi will fall asleep, and when he wakes up half an hour later, he will have no memory whatsoever of what had happened.

Tsunade had come up with this technique herself; had planned to use it to interrogate Orochimaru about the rumors of his criminal activities before he had even left Konoha. In all modesty, she had disclaimed, it was an utterly flawless interrogation technique.

This is a big step. Out of all the other techniques, this is the only one that Sakura has never used. It will literally bend her target to her will; leave him completely vulnerable – she could ask Itachi to do anything, or plant any sort of idea in his head, or use it to make him sing like a bird, literally or figuratively…

Sakura shoves those thoughts out of her mind, shaking her head determinedly as she tries her best to convince herself that there isn't anything _wrong _with what she's doing. She isn't using this for recreational purposes, or for experimentation, or for her own selfish motivations. This is an incredibly drastic measure, yes, but it could mean life or death for unknown amounts of people.

It was Itachi who drove her to this, anyway, Sakura rationales, as she rather viciously yanks her clothing off and gets into the shower. Him and his stupid loyalty to that damned organization—

It is only a few minutes later, in the midst of shampooing her hair, that Sakura realizes that her eyes are stinging a little, and not necessarily from the shampoo that has gotten into her eyes. Part of her wants Itachi to choose where his loyalties lie, once and for all – but the other part is afraid to even think about what the answer to that would be.

-

By the time Sakura steps out of the bathroom again, dries her hair, and pulls on her usual shorts, split skirt, and zips up her crimson vest over her slightly damp skin, she has done her best to harden her heart to the entire issue, stifling her conscience as best as she can. Still, her heart is hammering underneath her ribcage; she knows that Itachi will trust her; that he will fall for it, but still, she just has a little bit of a bad feeling about this.

When Sakura finally calms herself enough to pull the door open and slink back into the main room, the sight that she is greeted with is enough to make her stop dead for a moment, before she hastily attempts to regain her composure. "Good morning," she offers a little uncertainly, smoothing a few locks of her straight hair back down against her collarbone in an instinctinctual nervous gesture.

Itachi glances up from the depths of his cup of chai tea, his eyes shadowed. "Morning," he replies shortly, his tone utterly devoid of emotion. But he only allows himself to look at Sakura for a moment; she hovers near the bathroom door, leaning against the wall a little, and now she is combing her fingers through the ends of her hair, apparently unaware of his scrutiny. It is only then that Itachi remembers the necessity of tearing his gaze away, firmly redirecting it back into a blank point on the opposite wall.

Slightly thrown off by this rather icy greeting, Sakura pauses for half a step, before steeling herself and continuing toward her side of the bed, and comfortably settling herself beside him. Still, Itachi seems determined to ignore her, studiously avoiding any eye contact, and she smoothes her hand over her skirt, trying to mask her confusion. "So."

Predictably enough, Itachi refuses to dignify any single-word statement with a reply, and Sakura sighs a little, trying to re-organize her thoughts at her plan of action. This obviously won't work, not right now. She has no idea about how to subtly broach the idea at the moment, and Itachi…well, he's obviously in one of his more difficult moods right now; for whatever reasons, his body language is giving off all of his subtle danger signs. Perhaps she could do it later, if some opportunity comes up during their assignment?

Still, Sakura abandons her position, before slinking over to his side of the bed and then, she tentatively reaches out, touching his shoulder – and, surprisingly, he pulls back from the fleeting contact immediately, jerking away from her as if burned. Her movements still, and when Itachi faces her again, his eyes are bladed crimson like she hasn't seen in a long time, silently dangerous and telling in no uncertain terms to get the _hell _away from him.

For a moment, Sakura doesn't know what to say, but then she swallows over her suddenly dry throat, taking an involuntary step backward. "If you need anything," she says, in a voice that comes out a little smaller than she would have liked, because she hasn't been on the receiving end of that bloodline limit in weeks. "Just…ask."

And then, because she can really do nothing else, Sakura mumbles something about breakfast and waffles and flees, slamming the door behind her.

Leaving Itachi to close his eyes once again, hating _everything. _He has been thinking about it constantly since last evening, since his exchange with Madara, and kami – despite that display earlier (with everything on his mind, he hardly thinks that he can stand being around her at the moment), he has come to…care about Sakura. To trust her, even, and the last thing he wants is to drag her into Madara's corrupt plans and machinations.

Even though he had somehow agreed to do just that.

Itachi presses the heels of his palms against his temples, closing his eyes once again and cursing that moment of weakness that had allowed him – _them _– to become embroiled in this situation. He should never have let himself become so attracted to Sakura; he should have realized the weakness and vulnerability that she was becoming to him, and eliminated it. His selfish desire for her has put them in a position of political intrigue that is beyond dangerous.

To make matters worse, she really does trust him. Madara had made it clear that he was to extract the requisite information from her, and Itachi just knows that it would only be too easy to do so. He can read her like an open book; knows exactly what buttons to push to get the answers that he desires. It would be the worst kind of betrayal, the results of which could truly wreck her, but Sakura would never come to know, and what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her, and…she would get better. She would recover from Naruto's death, eventually, and perhaps the two of them could move on to the Konoha that he and Madara would create; have some kind of future together—

The tension tightens the muscles in his shoulders and neck, sending a fresh pulse of pain into his already-present tension headache, and in that moment, as Itachi tugs the simple black band free of his long ponytail, before raking his fingers through his hair, he knows that he has never before felt this conflicted.

-

"You attempted to take on this assignment yesterday?"

The terse question breaks the forty-five minute long silence that has settled over them, and Sakura almost jumps as she looks back at her partner. Again, it takes a conscious effort for her to not smooth her hair down in its usual compulsive nervous gesture. "Yeah," she replies, hoping her voice doesn't sound like it's trying too hard to be casual. "It, um, didn't work out."

Itachi doesn't even look back at her, although Sakura can easily see the tension and barely restrained frustration in his posture as he glances back and forth throughout the stretch of swampland. He is unusually easy to read today; wound far too tightly and on the verge of snapping. And, after becoming accustomed to his constant state of cool, stoic calm, she really does find that this is setting her on edge – for the first time in a _long_ time, she actually does not feel completely at ease around him. Sakura doesn't know when their moods have become so closely intertwined with one another's, but this only serves as another reason to make her even more upset.

"The convict is not within the vicinity of this area," Itachi responds at last, his voice quiet and too sharp, like the point of a blade, but this time, Sakura can understand the tone; this is the fourth false lead that they have followed today. "We should return to the syndicate," he murmurs, sounding less than pleased about it, and the pink-haired kunoichi catches sight of how he lifts one hand to his forehead for the briefest of moments. "There may be new sightings for us to investigate."

In a split second, Sakura decides that this is it, and before she has the opportunity to think it through further and freak herself out about it even more, she quickens her step, catching up to him in a matter of moments. Deciding to take her chances with this, she reaches out quickly, catching both of Itachi's hands in hers and lightly tugging him backward, so that he has to turn to face her.

Again, Itachi's muscles tense rapidly, all the way from his hands to his shoulders, and he gives her a decidedly nonplussed look. "What are you doing?" he asks icily.

It takes a concerted effort to ignore her self-preservation instinct like this, but Sakura takes one step closer nevertheless; she is too rattled to look him in the eye, still, so she fixes her gaze squarely on his collarbone as she lets her fingertips trail all the way up his arm, to his shoulders, tracing over the leanly defined muscles, which stiffen even further underneath her touch. "Are you sure you're all right?" Sakura replies, keeping her tone as cool and clinical as possible, even though it somewhat contradicts her physical actions. "You seem pretty tense."

Itachi keeps his gaze trained on some point over her head; trying to settle the warring impulses of his body – part of him wants to relax into Sakura's light, soothing touches, and the other part just wants him to continue what he has been doing all day in trying to put as much distance between them as possible. "Headache," he says impassively, by way of explanation, but to his displeasure, he finds it a little bit too difficult to shake her off at the moment—

Before he can entertain any similar thoughts, Sakura makes a tiny, sympathetic sound in the back of her throat, standing on her tiptoes in order to give her chakra-coated hands better access to his knotted shoulders. To her satisfaction, Itachi actually closes his eyes at this for the briefest of moments, unwillingly seeming to relax into her touch a little.

_Perfect, _Sakura thinks, the butterflies in her stomach finally starting to calm a tiny bit, before being replaced by a strange, cold kind of detachment. "You know that I can help with that, right?" she says softly, gently kneading one of her thumbs into a particularly tight knot at the base of his neck – even as she wonders what could have happened in that meeting to make him so incredibly _tense. _"Tsunade-shishou said that I could heal even her worst hangover headaches…"

He reacts better than she could have even expected to this, tilting his neck forward to give her better access to the pressure point. Itachi's better judgment is telling him that this is likely not a good idea, but at the same time, it is just _Sakura _– sweet, innocent Sakura, with no hidden or ulterior motives. Unlike Madara. And there surely can be no harm in letting Sakura do this; it won't change anything between them, or their situation, or her part in Madara's plan. Denying himself her healing would simply be masochistic, and that is the last thing that he needs right now.

"Very well," Itachi murmurs, his voice rougher than usual – both with restrained pleasure at what Sakura is doing, and the strain of suppressing the natural instinct to place his hands on her hips, pull her closer, and find _other_ ways to relax.

_Hook, line, and sinker._

And Sakura says nothing, instead just ceasing the soft massage she is giving him, in favor of sliding her hand back down to his and tangling their fingers together again. She offers Itachi her sweetest smile, which she hopes doesn't look too forced, and lightly pulls him toward the shade of the nearest tree, tilting her head toward it in a self-explanatory fashion. "Sit?"

Itachi does so without comment, leaning his back against the trunk, sweeping his long ponytail over one shoulder, and drawing his knees to his chest a scant few inches. She cannot read the expression on his face, but it is still a little guarded, as usual – and crimson and black with the pinwheels of his bloodline limit, inconveniently enough. He watches her calmly, waiting, and Sakura swallows over her suddenly dry throat, hating the fact that the cold detachment seems to have disappeared too soon.

It is something that she's done with quite a few males before, always in a professional context, and that gives Sakura a small measure of confidence as she sinks to her knees. There are a few moments of horrible, initial awkwardness as she settles herself over his lap, essentially, bracing one knee on either side of his hips and balancing herself with one hand against the trunk of the tree. In a rare moment of expressiveness, Itachi actually looks startled by her extreme proximity; they are eye-to-eye, only a few inches away from one another, and he shifts a little underneath her, sending the smallest amount of shivers up her spine. Mercilessly reminding herself that _she_ will have to be the professional one in this equation, Sakura leans forward a little, and soon finds Itachi's hair is just as silky as it looks, as she gently sweeps it away from his temples.

They are so close that it is unnerving in every way, and that is only aggravated by the fact that she is currently being stared down by the world's most deadly bloodline limit…which is a bit of a mood killer, really. Not to mention that she won't be able to execute her technique undetected while the Sharingan is still activated.

"Can you…" Sakura nods toward him, trailing off as she does so, and willing her heart rate to maintain innocently steady. "It's not going to work as well with the Sharingan's interference."

Itachi looks so wary that for a moment, she is afraid that he won't buy it, but then, the crimson color fades from his eyes, leaving them their natural shade of dark charcoal-gray, and Sakura has to bite back a long exhalation of pure relief. As if in warning, though, he places a steadying hand on the back of her left thigh, curling his long fingers around the slender limb in order to hold her in place – or to remind her that if she does anything he doesn't like, there will be immediate consequences.

_Don't worry, _Sakura can't help but think, a little ironically. _You won't know it. _

"Just relax," she says instead, pressing the tips of her fingers to his temples. "Close your eyes, if you want…it'll make things easier."

Still, Itachi isn't the kind of person who would find it all too easy to put himself in such a vulnerable position – even if it is just with his sweet, _innocent_ partner, Sakura reflects to herself; it is likely that she will have to coax him into it a little more.

It only takes a few minutes of carefully, deeply massaging his neck and shoulders – with the help of some very subtle anesthetic chakra, of course – for Itachi's eyelids to start lowering slightly, getting him right where she wants him. Sakura hasn't done this (minus, you know, the blatant and shameless manipulation) for anybody since that time when Genma Shiranui sustained those pinched nerves all throughout his shoulders in combat, although Genma had kept the mood light, gently teasing her throughout the half-hour long session. This entire – _thing _– with Itachi couldn't be any more different; he battles drowsiness valiantly, staring at her with a kind of intensity that almost makes her want to abandon her initial game plan in favor of some other pursuits entirely. To make matters worse, with every moment that passes, she is all too aware of his hand touching her leg like that…

In all honesty, though, Sakura had been doing just fine until he purred.

At first, she thinks that it's probably just her imagination, but then Sakura buries her thumb into the knot in the back of Itachi's shoulder blade again, and this time, the soft, barely-audible sound that works its way free from the back of his throat is unmistakable. He lets his head fall back a little, his neck arching somewhat, and his hand tightens around the back of her leg, pulling her close enough for both of their chests to press together, and _kami, _the pink-haired kunoichi promptly lets herself forget about her objective for a few moments; long enough to observe that this is probably one of the most undeniably hot and sexually charged moments of her life. The sensation of having one of the world's most dangerous men literally melting beneath her fingertips is completely intoxicating. Her already-overworked hormones kick into overdrive at the thought, and it is all Sakura can do to not deepen the contact, or, better yet, just lean in and lock his lips with hers.

She has to bite her lip hard to try and work these rather intense impulses under control and focus on the task at hand, as she slowly slides her hands from Itachi's shoulder blades up to his temples in order to proceed with the _real _work…now that he has, essentially, been incapacitated to the proper degree.

It is a testament to the strength and subtlety of the anesthetic in her chakra that Itachi offers no resistance and barely even stirs in acknowledgment of the foreign sensation, as Sakura sends a few gentle, tentative pulses of sedative chakra right through the skin. These will do their part to eliminate the last vestiges of the tension headache, as well as subduing a few parts of the brain that control inhibition centers and whatever gives him the mental capacity to actively analyze and potentially deny her questions…although her work is only just beginning.

"That was just a preliminary dosage, to relax the inflamed nerve endings there," Sakura lies effortlessly, in her most quiet, soothing tone, and she can't help but brush her fingers against his hair again. "It's going to take a few more to actually solve the root of the problem, all right?"

Itachi mumbles something in assent, his eyes still closed; naturally, as the sedative chakra that she has sent to the appropriate areas of his brain are just beginning to kick in.

Even though this is causing an uncomfortable tightness in her stomach, Sakura readjusts the positioning of her now-clammy hands a little. This is the last chance for her to stop, and her ethics, her morals, the oaths she had taken as a medic-nin, are all _screaming_ for her to do so—

She sends the last requisite pulse of chakra through his skin.

Now, she makes no attempt to calm the hammering of her heart as she stares at him anxiously, waiting for some kind of response, if any. It is too late, but Sakura has already been slammed by a wall of second thoughts – this is her first time doing something like this. What if she had just screwed up somehow? What if she had subdued the wrong areas? What if she had accidentally hurt him?

_You're far too competent for that,_ she reminds herself a little ruthlessly, wiping the palms of her hands on her skirt. _It's going to be fine._

Sakura leans closer to him; true enough, she can feel his heart rate, calm and steady, and a quick check of his vital stats confirms that everything is in perfect order. Itachi simply looks like he is asleep, although she knows better.

It is time to test the waters, and she shifts a little, locking her eyes on him. Sakura has never interrogated before; she has never even _seen _one, despite the fact that Ino had apprenticed with Ibiki Morino immediately before Danzou had taken over. Still, she now feels a frigid kind of confidence – the hardest part is now over. It's probably best to start slow, though…

"How are you?" Sakura asks quietly, because this answer will likely determine if she has succeeded in the procedure or not.

Itachi's reply is almost immediate; his eyes open, seeking hers, and although his voice is low and somewhat distant and detached; none of the numerous body language cues that indicates untruths in any way, shape, or form, are flaring up. "…Fine."

His profile exactly fits the one of the successful completed technique on a set target that Tsunade-shishou had initially shown her, and Sakura feels her shoulders relax slightly, out of sheer relief. "So," she murmurs, relocating her hands to his collarbone, as she traces her thumbs along the defined line almost absentmindedly. "What exactly happened during the Akatsuki meeting to make you so very stressed?"

Strangely enough, Itachi's left eyebrow actually gives the smallest of tics at this, and he struggles with his words for a moment. "…Madara," he says softly, at last, staring at her like she _should_ understand.

Instead, Sakura blinks, thrown. Madara? What the hell is a _Madara_? But then, it seems like a name—

"Is that the Akatsuki Leader, Itachi?" Sakura asks gently, even though she has to clench her palms to keep her excitement at finally matching a name to the mysterious, orange-haired leader of the Akatsuki under wraps.

He watches her impassively. "…In essence, yes."

Again, Sakura blinks at the ambiguous reply – only Itachi could manage to be utterly difficult even while thoroughly sedated – although she is a little too impatient to press the issue further. Instead, she rubs her hands along the strong lines of his shoulders almost apologetically, trying to calm both of them. "Tell me everything about his plan," she murmurs, and even though her voice is steely, her hands tremble out of mingled anticipation and nervousness.

Itachi's eyes seek her out again, and for a moment, his calm charcoal-gray locks with her apprehensive emerald. But Sakura doesn't think about this; instead, she examines the _look _in his gaze – the silent struggle, the expression of confusion, confliction – all of which _shouldn't _be there. He shouldn't even possess the capacity to resist her like this, and Sakura can't help but jerk back, unnerved. "What—"

Her voice dies in her throat as Itachi slowly lifts one hand, lightly brushing the back of his knuckles down the delicate line of her cheekbone, and the expression in his eyes is as intense as hers is shocked. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, and Sakura freezes suddenly, even as his words take on a disturbingly impassive, almost mechanical quality. "…But it has to be done."

And then, the world seems to slow to a stop as Sakura's heart actually skips a beat. This entire experience has suddenly gotten far too surreal and eerie; the words send a cold chill down the length of her spine, both at their ominous nature, and the fact that Itachi really seems to _mean _it.

In the next second, Sakura snaps; all vestiges of calm desert her, and before she even realizes what she is doing, her hands have already locked around Itachi's throat, pressing him mercilessly against the tree. She is gasping for breath, but he still looks strangely removed and calm, making no move to physically resist – which is predictable, since he is still completely under the influence of the sedative. "Why should you be sorry?" Sakura asks desperately, and her heart is pounding so wildly that she doesn't even notice that she is rubbing her thumb over Itachi's pulse point dangerously. "_Why_? What has to be done?"

Too late, she recognizes that she shouldn't have put a chakra-loaded thumb over such a sensitive area; _especially _not when he is so very vulnerable. And for one moment; the moment when Itachi's eyes close and his pulse stills for a moment, Sakura's heart ceases to beat as well, as she pulls her hands away from him as if burned, looking down at him in horror.

_Oh, kami, no—_

She doesn't understand the violence of her reaction, then, but before she can even follow that thought to completion, Itachi breathes again.

It is a little shallow and a little slow, but as Sakura watches disbelievingly, it begins to stabilize, until it becomes evident that something in her chakra, somehow, had been derailed – and Itachi really is just asleep.

It is then that everything that has happened in the past two days catches up to her, and Sakura barely manages to extricate herself from him and run a decent distance into the forest until she happens upon the nearest stream. She falls to her knees against the hard dirt, and she is suddenly, violently sick, horrified by what she had done to Itachi, what she had _almost _done to him, what she had almost found out—

There is a dry, choking sob trying to fight its way free of her throat, but Sakura swallows it down determinedly, using her hands to cup in the constant rush of clear, cold water and splashing it over her face. She is a kunoichi, more than capable of performing techniques like this; capable of performing even things a million times more gruesome without even the blink of an eye, but _not _on somebody like this, like him; not on somebody that she has come to—

_I shouldn't have done this, _Sakura realizes then, wrapping her arms around herself and trying not to tremble. _I should never have done this._

-

Itachi wakes up a little while later, mildly surprised at the fact that he is even waking up; after all, he cannot remember falling asleep. The last thing that he recalls, as a matter of fact, was Sakura straddling his lap – an entirely novel sensation which he had rather enjoyed at the moment – and quietly telling him that she would heal his headache…

He opens his eyes then, sitting up cautiously and looking around, stretching his shoulders experimentally. His headache seems long gone, and apparently, Sakura had taken care of the wide battery of constant aches throughout his neck, back, and shoulders as well. Itachi reaches around, rubbing the back of his neck a little ruefully; this sensation of being newly restored is, at the same time, a little strange.

His gaze lights on Sakura, who is sitting under the next tree over from him, methodically chewing some of the overly-saccharine gum that she seems so irrationally fond of, and staring into space. And, admittedly, this gives Itachi a moment of pause – last night, she had no qualms about curling up next to him and making herself thoroughly comfortable there, and he has no objections as to letting her do the same whenever she wishes. He cannot help but notice that Sakura looks a little paler than usual, as well, and she keeps rubbing her hands over her upper arms as if cold, even though it is anything but, in the humid swamp-forest.

When Itachi clears his throat quietly, she jumps, even though he merely nods toward her. "Are you all right?" he inquires softly.

It is only too clear that he has no memory of the interrogation, but Sakura still has to swallow a few times before she can answer. "Fine – just a little exhausted," she replies in a way that she hopes sounds casual, waving her hand offhandedly.

She has spent the past half hour desperately forcing herself to believe that it _must _have been a mistake, it _must _have been that she had misinterpreted Itachi's words – it must have been that he was just apologizing to her for being an Akatsuki member and trying to take over the world, because Itachi would never hurt _her_ on an individual, personal level. He would never consciously cause her any kind of pain, emotional or physical…

The worst thing is that Sakura cannot broach the topic with him, though. Yeah, _that _would go over well. "Sorry, Itachi, but earlier today, I intentionally deceived you and violated every medical ethic code regarding the implicit trust between patient and medic, in order to manipulate and force you into disclosing some really troubling information. Want to talk about that over a nice cup of tea?"

No. It had been clear that it had just been an error in communication; a misunderstanding – and because of that, it would be best for her to just forget about this. She can find out what the Akatsuki's plan is later; she can use a more precise method of some sort, and therefore ascertain much better results. Meanwhile, she can do as much research as possible about this _Madara _person. And _then _she can take action.

It is the steady repeating of this mantra to herself that enables Sakura not to flinch as Itachi bridges the distance between them, carefully settling himself next to her. It is a casual pose that they have sat in countless times over the past few months, but still, it sends a sharp twinge of guilt and apprehension and fear straight through her ribs, and Sakura fixes her gaze firmly on a nearby patch of dirt as she struggles to get her feelings under control.

Normally, it is hardly in Itachi's nature to press matters like this, but right now, startlingly enough, he feels somewhat…indebted…to his little pink-haired partner. "Are you sure?"

His voice is kept carefully impassive, but still, Sakura cannot help but let a tiny smile tug at the corners of her mouth. Itachi will likely never recognize it as the apologetic gesture that it's meant to be, but she leans over a little anyway, resting her head on his shoulder. "Yeah," she replies, in a tone that sounds completely normal; a little amused, barely flirtatious, just like it always does to the casual listener. "Just make sure you return the favor sometime, okay?"

Itachi only gives her a small smirk in response. "Unlikely."

-

After that brief interlude, the next two hours settle back into the usual grind; they are kept so busy tracking the escaped convict that Sakura literally does not even have a moment to spare to think about what had happened in the glade. In the end, they find the criminal's heavily disguised self in a bar a few cities away, Sakura knocks him out, and Itachi drags him back to the syndicate. They find a shrimp tempura shack in celebration, and by late afternoon, Itachi and Sakura are back in their room, surrounded by empty food boxes and quite contentedly resting in bed. More accurately, Sakura is resting, and Itachi is seated next to her, attempting to read his poetry and lightly – well, he isn't _stroking _her hair by any means, but his right hand is resting on the mattress as he leans against the headboard, and it only happens to be two or so inches away from Sakura's slowly-growing, strawberry-colored mane; enough for his fingers to brush her pleasingly soft hair whenever she fitfully shifts in her sleep.

As if to deliberately contradict him in that statement, Sakura half-turns and snuggles up to her pillow in a way that only aids in making her skirt slide a little further up her legs. "Remember to pay," she mumbles blearily, her voice muffled by the pillow.

Itachi blinks, looking away from his latest couplet. "…Pardon?"

"For our room," Sakura repeats a little impatiently, as she lifts her head off the pillow a few inches and rubs her eyes. "I forgot to, yesterday…and…" she yawns again, her eyelids drifting closed. "You've been tangling my hair for this whole time, you know? I don't really mind if you touch it, but—"

Itachi's expression promptly undergoes the few minute twitches that result in making him look as horrified as possible – both at the knowledge that his partner seems to have skipped out on paying for their room, and that she had actually witnessed his indiscretion. "I will do that," he replies, as hastily as possible while still maintaining his stoic countenance, even as he slides off the bed and attempts to put as much distance between them as possible. "Immediately."

Blind to his discomfort, Sakura only turns around a little, burying her face back into the pillow, even though she manages to give his general direction a slightly half-hearted wave. "Night, 'Tachi-kun…"

Luckily for the thoroughly drowsy kunoichi's dignity, Itachi had promptly fled after telling her that he would go and pay for their room, leaving her very much alone – although this isn't necessarily a good thing. Sakura has a raging headache, everything in her stomach and chest are still twisted up in anxious knots as a result of everything that had happened in the glade, and on top of that, she is bone-weary and dizzy and her thoughts are so troubled that she can barely tell right from left.

Sakura doesn't know how long she lies there, half asleep and half awake, but she remembers dazedly considering the possibility of sedating herself in order to get some peace. It is yet another violation of the medical codes of ethics, but she's already irrevocably shattered a good half of those today anyway; might as well finish the job…

Her chakra-covered hand is halfway to her forehead when the toad appears on her pillow, a few inches away from her.

At first, Sakura thinks that it must be a hallucination. She really does. But it keeps _croaking _in a way that hallucinations shouldn't be able to, and she reaches for it blindly, dragging herself up into a half-sitting position. It takes a few minutes for her vision to stop spinning so horribly, and the first three or four times that she reaches for the animal summons, she misses. On the fifth, Sakura finally manages to reach it – namely, the note in its mouth. A small piece of yellowish paper, folded in half once, and then she realizes, with an ice-cold sense of certainty, that something is wrong.

_Animal summons. Toad. _

Something cold and iron clenches its fingers around her heart and squeezes mercilessly, and Sakura stares down at the paper, dry-eyed. Her head is pounding and the world seems to have stopped, again, and _kami_, she knows that it is utterly irrational; that her instincts don't know what they're talking about, but she feels so incredibly scared right now; like she hasn't felt in years—

-

A few minutes later, when Itachi unlocks the room again, he takes one step inside, and freezes.

Sakura is sitting on the edge of the bed, clutching something small and unseen tightly, in white-knuckled fingers that are shaking with stress. Her hair has fallen over her face, so that he cannot see it, but Itachi can hear the deep, trembling breaths that she is forcing herself to take; only a skilled medic-nin's way of counteracting the shock that threatens to overwhelm his or her body.

In that second, part of him knows, with a sudden sense of cold, irrevocable dread, what must have happened, and before Itachi's body even registers the movement, he is in front of her, his hands on her pale, too-cold shoulders. "Sakura—"

She looks up at him then; all of the color has drained from her face, leaving only a pair of frightened, shockingly green eyes, and Itachi cannot help but release her and take a step back; momentarily stunned at the knowledge that he had done this to her.

Sakura stands up a little shakily, but the expression on her face is one of cold, steely resolution – one that, to somebody as skilled as he as deciphering the subtle nuances of body language, does little to hide how traumatized she is. "Naruto," she pronounces slowly, even as she slides to the floor, quickly picking up and shouldering her bag of medical supplies, scanning the room to make sure that she has left nothing behind. "It's – the note – Jiraiya said something about…hired assassins…"

She trails off, the façade cracking for a moment. "He – he may not—"

Sakura chokes over the words, turning away under the guise of making sure that she has all of her medical equipment in her bag, and when Itachi takes a tentative step toward her, still unsure of what to do – because, _hell_, he had not thought that Madara would take action so quickly, and part of him hates himself for even thinking about things like that when his partner is slowly breaking right in front of him.

He underestimates Sakura, though, and before his eyes, her strength slowly returns as she takes a purposeful step toward him. "I need to leave," Sakura says, even though her eyes are darting around in obvious distraction. "Now."

Before Itachi realizes what he is doing, his hands have closed around her hips, pulling her closer and holding her in place. His mind has kicked into overdrive, and the logical parts are realizing that if this plan has any hopes of succeeding, he has to detain her; every moment that she spends _here _and not with the Uzumaki will only help his ultimate objective, in that Naruto will be eliminated sooner rather than later. Along with that, if she goes now, Sakura is skilled enough to heal Naruto, even bring him back from the brink of death, and that means that she runs the risk of finding out some details about the attackers that she _shouldn't, _from Jiraiya or Naruto himself – but at the same time, he cannot bring himself to—

At that moment, Itachi is so conflicted that at first, he doesn't exactly realize when Sakura grabs his ponytail roughly, pulling him forward and down, toward her. Neither of them have any time to think about it, but then they are kissing hard, roughly, passionately, his hands still locked in a bruising grip around her hips, and her right hand having fisted in the length of his hair painfully.

It is only a few seconds and over all too soon, soon enough for Itachi to have only fully _realized _what had just happened by the time Sakura releases him, but then she is looking up at him with eyes that are dangerously moist. "Take care of yourself," she whispers hoarsely, her voice threatening to break under the strain. "…Please. If I'm not careful right now, you're going to be all that I have left."

It has been five to six minutes, at most, since Sakura could have received the letter. Five to six minutes that Naruto could have been bleeding to death. Another two or three minutes could finish the job; all it would take is for him to simply bend down and kiss her again, holding her close – despite Sakura's strength, it would be so easy to overwhelm her, one way or another…

It is so tempting.

Itachi pulls her back to him with a crushing grip around her wrist, and without even giving her the time to blink; he presses a quick, close-mouthed kiss to the place where her forehead meets her hairline. "Go," he says roughly. "Just—"

Before he has a chance to finish the sentence, Sakura has already vanished into thin air, leaving only a few cherry blossom petals in her wake.

Itachi closes his eyes, then, and for the second time that day, sinks down on the bed, raking his fingers through his hair. His thoughts are whirling to such an extent that he actually feels vaguely nauseous, and, kami, _Sakura. _

At this point, Itachi is no longer sure if he wants to see her succeed or not. Contrary to what he had thought earlier, he cannot merely watch Sakura shatter in the wake of her closest friend's death…and be there to offer her comfort, _solace_, all while knowing that he had essentially been the engineer of Naruto's demise. At the same time, the possibility of the future that Madara had painted for them is just so incredibly seductive, and Itachi knows that it will never happen if the Uzumaki is allowed to take Konoha and the position of the Rokudaime Hokage. Not to mention that the possibility of Sakura finding out about – the plan – is enough to send the slightest shiver of anxiety (yes; real, actual anxiety, the likes of which he has not experienced in years) down his spine.

Itachi rises and begins to pace the length of the room, throwing darkened glares out at the shadowed country outside of the window.

By the time today comes to a close, nothing will be the same, and for the first time, he really does not know how to deal with that.

-

_Waterfall_

-

Sakura's head is spinning the second she hits the ground. Distantly, some part of her notes and analyzes the fact that she is in a sparse forest, surrounded by grassy meadow on three sides and a giant, incredible lake on the other, but all of those trivial details cease to matter the second that she feels Jiraiya's steadying hand on her elbow. Despite the gravity of the situation, he still spares a moment to give her a wry, incredibly strained smile as he leads her deeper into the forest. "You look good, Sakura."

Sakura wastes no time with the social pleasantries, instead heading straight for the battered canvas tent set up in the corner of the forest, under the shade of the trees. "How is he?" she asks sharply, already pulling the layers of healing chakra to her hands, even as she begins to sweep aside the entrance flap to the tent.

Jiraiya shoots a wary look at her, before stilling her hand for a moment. In response to the girl's outraged look, he shakes his head very slightly, looking much older than his years. "I know you're – that you're as good as she…was, but, Sakura, Naruto's—"

He couldn't have chosen worse words to say.

Sakura ducks inside the tent, and for a moment, she can actually swear that her heart stops.

After three years as a medic-nin, she is no stranger to the sight of blood, but kami, it is _everywhere_, soaking into the ground, into rolls of bandages, into discarded clothing that had formed makeshift bandages – she has seen things like this and hardly batted an eyelid, but the fact that all of this is coming from her Naruto, her closest friend and kind-of inspiration and once-lover is enough to turn her stomach. He is unconscious, stretched out in the corner of the tent, his clothes in tatters, and for lack of a better phrase, he simply looks like he has been ripped apart and very nearly turned inside out.

As she sinks to her knees in front of him, Sakura forces herself not to feel, even though a small part of her wants nothing more than to collapse over his ripped-open chest and sob her eyes out. She puts her hand to his neck mechanically, checking the pulse. Faint, barely there. Slowly ebbing. Slipping into medic-nin mode, after a few moments of observation with her sharp eyes and her chakra-coated hands, Sakura can immediately determine that whoever had done this had used two or more katana as weapons – Naruto _(the patient_, she reminds herself mercilessly) has sustained severe ruptures in almost all major internal organs, all of his ribs are broken, and he has one seriously punctured lung. He is bleeding internally, and on top of that, he has some serious head trauma as well—

Sakura stares down at the unquestionably gory sight in a way that is as close to detached as she can force herself to be. She will have to literally sew his insides together, bit by bit.

_Kami, _she thinks desperately, even as she begins the preliminary healing procedures to cease the internal bleeding. _Naruto…who did this to you?_

As if reading her mind, Naruto groans then, turning his head fitfully as a thin trickle of blood emanates from the corner of his mouth, and the sound and sight nearly rips _her _heart apart.

"I'll save you," Sakura doesn't even realize that she whispers the words to herself, even as she gently, unflinchingly immerses her bare, chakra-covered hands into the immense, gaping, open wound over Naruto's chest. "I promise."

She begins to work, then, her movements quick and thorough and at the same time, completely mechanical. Sakura thinks that she goes into autopilot, of a sort, and it is kind of frightening – she doesn't feel like she's thinking, or remembering, or even _breathing. _It is like every fiber of her body pours itself single-mindedly into this cause, of manually putting severed organs back together and knitting them in place with her chakra before repairing the extensive trauma there, healing the broken ribs, re-inflating the punctured lung, and not to mention dealing with all of that blood loss. It is a strange, irrational feeling, but there are times when she can swear that she is being helped by _something_ a little out of this world. Like a higher power…or maybe the Kyuubi. Because as a medic-nin, she can swear that other men who have lost _this_ much blood would have died already.

Sakura loses track of how long she is kneeling over Naruto's body; she only stops when his form, from the chin down, is once again completely whole, and it is just then that she realizes that she is pale and shaking. She feels clammy from the inside out, too thirsty and vaguely nauseous, and she is soaked up to the elbows in his blood.

She doesn't want to, but she stands on legs that won't fully support her weight and staggers out of the tent, and to her eternal shame, Jiraiya catches her just before she falls. "How is he, Sakura?" he asks gently, easing her to her knees underneath the base of a tree.

She leans her head against the tree trunk, willing the world to stop spinning around her. "No longer in critical condition," Sakura replies, in a voice that is so hoarse and raw that, for a moment, she doesn't even recognize it as her own.

Jiraiya closes his eyes then, releasing a long breath that he hadn't realized that he had been holding, before handing her a flask of cold water that he had cupped himself, from the fresh, clear waterfall that neighbors the campsite. "Two and a half hours, hm?" he asks, a bit ruefully. "She has taught you well."

Sakura accepts gladly, too exhausted to be graceful; the water splashes over her blood-stained hands and arms and crimson vest, and then she pours a handful into one cupped hand and runs it through her hair. "It's not over by a long shot," she replies, when finally able. "I mean, he's sleeping now – not unconscious, but actually sleeping; I fixed up his insides, but there's still a lot of head trauma to deal with, and he'll be recuperating for _at least_ a month—"

Jiraiya gives her a critical look, taking in her worn physical appearance. "Relax, Sakura," he orders, and for the first time, the pink-haired kunoichi notices how haggard Naruto's mentor looks. "You need some rest, too."

Sakura shakes her head resolutely, pulling herself to her feet. She ignores the slight wavering that she feels; the residual dizziness. "Not while he's still hurt," she says quietly, as much to Jiraiya as herself, as she heads into the tent once more. "It should take me about one more hour to fix the head trauma and check the internal organs and his chest again to make sure everything's holding up okay."

Jiraiya stands hastily, sweeping the tent entrance flap aside and staring at his student, worried. "Are you sure there's not anything that I can—"

Despite how stressed she is, Sakura manages to roll her eyes affectionately; this is at least the fifteenth time that he has asked. "I'll be fine," she assures quietly, before stepping into the tent. "I'll call you just as soon as Naruto wakes up, so we can all talk – I want to find out who did this to him."

Strangely enough, Jiraiya stops then, his eyes widening somewhat as he looks her over. "…You didn't know?"

Sakura freezes, turning back to him slowly. "It wasn't in the note," she replies, the words suddenly having difficulty working their way free of her throat. "You just wrote that they were hired assassins—"

"From Waterfall," Jiraiya completes grimly.

Maybe it is just the strain of the past couple of days, but Sakura suddenly feels unbearably _stupid_ and slow on the uptake. "I don't…" she starts, throwing another anxious look toward Naruto.

Jiraiya sighs, regarding her thoughtfully. "It only happened recently, so I suppose that it's reasonable that you wouldn't have heard about it yet. The assassins were sent by the Kage of Waterfall."

Sakura blinks, her hand fisting in the material of the canvas tent to steady herself. "That can't be," she replies immediately, desperately thinking back to her diplomacy lessons with Tsunade. "Waterfall and Konoha are allies; why would their Kage order an attack on a known Konoha shinobi?"

"That was before the coup, Sakura. Their _new_ Kage," Jiraiya replies distantly, his voice almost drowned out by the rush of the nearby waterfall, "wouldn't think twice about it."

Sakura thinks that she gasps, except that the sudden intake of breath makes her dizzy again, and the next thing she knows, Jiraiya has a steadying hand on her shoulder, but he shakes him off impatiently. "_What_?" she hisses, glaring. "New Kage? _Coup_? What's going on? Who is he?"

Jiraiya shakes his head at the onslaught of questions from the furious kunoichi. "Kakuzu," he says, his eyes narrowing, knowing that she will be intelligent enough to put the rest together.

Kakuzu.

Akatsuki.

_Former _Akatsuki member. He had been killed in action ten months ago—

—And of course the Akatsuki Leader wouldn't have stopped at just resurrecting Itachi.

Sakura's heart stops for a moment as she stares at Jiraiya disbelievingly; part of her has already put together the pieces of this puzzle, but she can't be sure, _won't _be sure, just yet.

"What – what was his former village?" she asks shakily. "Kakuzu, I mean."

"Waterfall," Jiraiya replies quietly, and his hands have long since clenched into fists. "You may not have known this – I don't know where you've been for the past months, but I was hoping that you would have run into Gai and his two students by now – but the rumors from our underground network are that the majority of the original members have been…brought back with the usage of some sort of resurrection technique."

Sakura closes her eyes, feels the cold bile rising at the back of her throat. "This isn't a one-time thing, is it?" she says, so softly that she can barely hear herself.

"There's one Akatsuki member for each village."

And everything suddenly starts to make sense.

"So," Sakura half-whispers, gesturing toward her best friend's unconscious body. "_That…_was supposed to be – clearing the way – for…"

"Konoha's candidate, yes," Jiraiya acknowledges gravely. "I don't think anybody has confirmed or denied the reports of Itachi Uchiha being in circulation once again, but…" he trails off abruptly, staring at the younger kunoichi in worry. "Sakura, are you—"

"No," she snaps, pushing her way into the tent and viciously wiping at her eyes with the back of her right hand as she does so. "I'm fine."

Sakura heals Naruto's head trauma flawlessly, with eyes that are almost completely blurred over, and when she is finally finished, she feels a hand come to rest on the top of her head. It is Jiraiya, bent double in order to fit into the cramped tent, and he nods at both of them. Sakura precedes his question by gently taking Naruto's left hand in hers, rubbing her thumb absently over the numerous calluses on his palm. "He's going to be completely fine," she assures softly, craning her head up to look at the older shinobi.

Jiraiya takes a seat as well, smoothing a few locks of damp blonde hair away from Naruto's forehead. "Good," he replies, his voice a little rougher than usual. "I would have rather died myself than failed to protect my friend's son."

A ghost of a smile touches Sakura's face as she interlaces her fingers with the still-sedated Naruto's, and Jiraiya redirects his attention to her. "Sakura," he warns abruptly. "I know you're – upset, but don't do anything rash or stupid or dangerous. Don't go trying to hunt him down."

"Don't worry," Sakura replies, giving him a tiny, ironic smirk. "There's no danger of that."

-

The night is unusually chilly.

Then again, Itachi had made the conscious choice to leave the window open, so perhaps he has only himself to blame for the frigid coolness that has pervaded the room. His headache had returned with a vengeance, and he turned out all the lights, leaving only a few of the complimentary scented candles lit; they are the only things that will not aggravate his photosensitive eyes.

Itachi loses track of the hours that he stands in front of the window, alone with his thoughts and staring back into his vague reflection in the mirror.

And then he blinks.

She is hovering in the back of the room, near the candles; the vivid colors of her vest and hair are the only parts that truly stand out about her reflection. Her eyes are deeply shadowed to the point of being almost unrecognizable, her skin ashen and pale, and when Itachi turns to face her, for a few moments, he and Sakura simply stare one another down. For once, she is completely and utterly indecipherable, and he has to suppress the impulse to ask her—

Surprisingly enough, Sakura is the first to break the silence. "Outside," she says, in a voice so strained that it threatens to snap. "Now."

Perhaps he could get through to her somehow, try to control the damage that has been done already, but by this point, Itachi simply does not know how – and part of him knows that the two of them will have to resolve this, one way or another. He raises an eyebrow, outwardly as coolly detached as ever, and recognizing the sudden frame shift in their relationship. "May I ask why?"

"Because I'm not willing," Sakura hisses venomously, her right hand curling into a white-knuckled fist, as she looks around their hotel room, "to risk anybody or anything interfering with what I'm about to do."

-

The second that Itachi fully materializes in the glade that they had been in earlier, he feels six of his ribs break in the same instant.

Sakura draws her fist back again, her eyes glittering angrily. "So, when were you planning on telling me you were going to off my best friend?" she spits, aiming another neck-breaking punch at his jaw, which Itachi barely manages to evade.

The pain in his ribs is shattering, and Itachi places a hand there, feeling the breaks. "I am not going to do this with you, Sakura," he replies evenly, flickering out of view just in time to avoid being poleaxed by the medium-sized tree that she had ripped out of the ground and swung at him, and too late, Itachi realizes that, despite everything, he has never faced Sakura in combat before.

Sakura doesn't think that she has ever felt this overcome by sheer rage, and for a moment, it feels like she literally sees red as she glares at the elder Uchiha. "Oh, yeah?" she responds acidly. "So you'll break my heart without thinking twice about it, but you won't _fight_ me?"

More likely than not, it had been intentional word choice chosen to immobilize him, but still, Itachi pauses for just a fraction of a second, thrown by the short phrase, because she _can't _mean—

"What—" Itachi begins, almost uncertainly, but before he can even finish the sentence, he finds himself pinned to the nearest tree in a chokehold unlike anything he has ever felt before, Sakura's body pressing against his and holding him in place as she tightens her grip around his neck. Briefly, Itachi's vision fades to black, but then instinct kicks in, despite his personal desires, and before Sakura even has time to blink, the roles have been reversed, and she is trapped against the tree by the lean, muscular weight of his body, making her struggles futile. "You don't understand," he hisses, his voice turning into something unrecognizable as he pushes himself closer against her until he can feel Sakura catch her breath underneath him. "I had no choice."

Sakura draws her fist back and slams it into his chest, then, and Itachi cannot help but step back in an immediate response to the wave of intense pain that floods over that entire region of his body, as she eyes him distastefully. "Do you remember the day that we first met?" she asks coldly. "I said that to you, and you told me that there was _always _a choice."

Even with the aid of his bloodline limit, Itachi does not see the next hit coming, and the next thing he knows, there is another blinding impact right over his heart. Part of him knows that he can defend himself from this; that there is no reason to stand here and withstand this abuse, but…part of him knows that he deserves this. And in the light of everything else that he has done to Sakura, he will not cause her any additional pain by retaliation.

Itachi is vaguely conscious of sinking back against the tree again, evading another strike from Sakura, and then she is only a few inches in front of him, close enough to kiss. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she asks, her entire body trembling, and this time, even he can pick up on the way her voice finally breaks, even though the burning pain in his ribs has blurred his vision. "What did they offer you to make you _do _something like this?"

He remains stubbornly silent, and for the second time that day, Sakura grabs the length of his ponytail roughly, pulling him down to her eye level. "I never thought you were the overly ambitious type," she says, her gaze searching his clinically. And then, as suddenly as she had pulled him down, Sakura shoves him back against the tree hard, stepping even closer, and Itachi remains completely motionless as he studies her, trying to understand the violent volatility of her emotions.

But then, for the briefest of moments, Sakura's face crumples and she looks away, momentarily releasing her hold on his Akatsuki cloak. "What did they offer you," she asks softly, and now, Itachi can see how rapidly she is blinking, "that I can't?"

These words very nearly prove to be his undoing, and despite himself, Itachi pulls himself away from the tree and reaches for her shoulder, but she grabs his wrist and twists it in a way that could very easily break the bone if turned another few degrees. "Don't," Sakura whispers, still looking at the floor; her face is hidden by her hair, but her tone tells Itachi everything that he needs to know.

Sakura closes her eyes, then, very nearly overwhelmed, and losing the ability to think in a straight line. She won't cry, and she won't admit it, but she remembers this feeling. Of having her heart breaking, as if on a faultline. Itachi had betrayed her trust in the worst way, just like his younger brother had. He had only confirmed what she had known all along; that he was wrong for her in everything that matters. He had essentially chosen his loyalties to the Akatsuki over his loyalty to her. He had—

The thought occurs to her quite randomly, out of nowhere.

And earlier today, he had _let her go._

Why?

If Itachi had detained her for another two or three minutes, Naruto would have bled out, and surely he would have known that. Then why had he…

She isn't just desperately seeking a reason to _not _have to leave him behind. There is a real question here, and Sakura looks up at Itachi then, and as their eyes lock again, she knows that they are thinking about the same thing.

"Choose," Sakura says quietly, her voice almost overpowered by the wind that rattles through the dark glade.

For a moment, she can swear that she sees the vaguest flash of irony in Itachi's dark gray eyes. "It is hardly that easy, Sakura," he replies, although admittedly, he finds it difficult to get the words out.

"What did the Akatsuki Leader offer you?" she counters immediately, stepping closer once again, and meeting his gaze fearlessly.

Again, that flicker of unreadable emotion crosses Itachi's face as he watches her unblinkingly. "Something," he says, at length, "that I know I can never have if I do not acquiesce to the terms of his plans."

Sakura frowns at the ambiguous nature of the response, but she knows that she can never get anything more out of him. Tentatively, careful of all the injuries she had inflicted on Itachi earlier, the pink-haired kunoichi reaches for his right hand, intertwining his cool, long-boned fingers with hers. "Can anything that _I _offer even come close?" she asks, a little ironically, because she is old enough to now realize that just walking away from something difficult may not always be the wisest thing to do.

Something in Itachi's expression softens for the most fleeting of moments, before returning to its usual detached façade. "More than you know," he replies cryptically.

_Kami, I'll never understand him._

Still, Sakura sighs a little, releasing a breath she hadn't even known she was holding, as she releases his hand slowly. "Then," she exhales, looking away and trying to come to terms with her thoughts and emotions. "What now?"

Perhaps it is just exhaustion or shock, but Sakura makes no move to resist as Itachi takes a careful step forward, bridging the distance between them.

She doesn't know if it qualifies as a real kiss. It is a lot slower and gentler than the ones that they have shared before, their lips barely brushing, even as Itachi holds her close, his hands having curled around her elbows, as she grips the collar of his dark shirt in an attempt to stay upright. And, in a deliberate contradiction of her previous thoughts, Sakura suddenly understands that this is the only way Itachi can bring himself to apologize.

And it is his way of telling her what side he has chosen.

They stand like this for what feels like a long time, and when they finally break apart, Sakura rests her forehead against the base of his throat, still overwhelmed, still unsure of _what _to think or feel. One stupid (or, well, not so stupid) kind-of kiss isn't going to fix anything between them. She and Itachi have a million and one things to work out, to talk about, to figure out – they have to see if they can get past this, somehow. She doesn't even want to _think _about everything that they need to resolve.

Not yet, anyway. Not until tomorrow morning.

"You didn't answer my question," Sakura reminds Itachi a little hoarsely, her voice muffled against his skin, and for a moment, she curls her fingers into a fist around his Akatsuki cloak in warning. "We have a lot to talk about, you know."

She feels him incline his head a fraction of an inch, and his fingers are warm, where they have closed around her hips. "Tomorrow?" Itachi suggests, his voice low.

Sakura pulls herself away, then, meeting his gaze squarely. "Fine. But just for the record, though, I don't forgive you," she says bluntly – the truth, although she almost feels as if it hurts her more than him. "And I don't know when I will."

She turns her back on him then, walking into the darkness without so much as a look back, and for a few long moments, Itachi merely watches Sakura fade into the distance, before finally following after her.

* * *

_to be continued_

* * *

And Itachi and Sakura finally begin attempting to get things straight. Like Sakura said, it's going to be a long road, for them – they have a lot of issues to work out. But I think a lot of you will be glad to hear that the angst will die down considerably in the next chapter, where the two of them finally have some opportunities to re-connect. Writing this one was a bit difficult, especially balancing Itachi and Sakura's thoughts on everything that was happening. But hopefully, if there was any ambiguity or confusion regarding either of their true feelings, it'll be straightened out within the next chapter or so.

Also, once again, I want to offer my incredibly heartfelt thanks to everybody who's voiced their support and kind words or vibes for my mother. Things are definitely looking up – she was able to come back home earlier this week, and the doctors have her on an extensive treatment regimen. It's going to be a slow process, but she will recover fully with time. Again, thank you so much to everybody. :)


	14. Slow Burn

_As always, thank you so much to everybody who was amazing enough to review. :)_

_-_

_Chapter Fourteen: Slow Burn_

_-_

The first thing Sakura does when she enters their room again is to matter-of-factly remove the large, heavy blanket that had formerly been spread across the double bed, before managing to drag it over to the dark purple suede loveseat on the other end of the suite. Without a word, she re-shoulders her bag and disappears into the bathroom – although, to be fair, Itachi is too busy attempting to come to grips with the blinding, seemingly unreal pain in his ribs, to fully register her movements.

He has suffered numerous horrific injuries before, especially in his last fight with Sasuke, but this is unlike anything that he has experienced in the past. Sasuke had managed to fracture one of his ribs somehow; that had hurt enough, but having _six_ of the bones broken clean through is simply agonizing.

By the time Itachi finally manages to ease himself down on the bed, holding his breath as he does so as to avoid moving them more than necessary, Sakura emerges from the bathroom again. She looks even tinier and more enveloped in Naruto's too-big orange pajamas than usual, and even as he takes a shallow breath that sends fine purple stars exploding across his inner eyelids, Itachi cannot help but feel a prick of…almost-remorse, as well, for the dark shadows underneath her eyes and the unusual ashen paleness of her skin. She must have executed an extraordinarily complex and taxing series of medical procedures for the past few hours to have taken such a toll on her.

Itachi does not want to ask, he really does not, but the words work its way free of his throat anyway, despite the fact that it hurts to speak, as he nods at her clothing. "…How is he?" he inquires, a little stiffly.

For her part, Sakura simply gives him a colorless look as she settles down on the sofa, nudging the blanket aside. "Fine," she replies shortly. "I stayed with him for an hour after he woke up, and he's not experiencing any significant discomfort, thankfully."

There is a slightly awkward pause between them as Sakura looks down at the weave of the blanket, plucking at the thread with her slightly shaking fingers, and Itachi simply watches her, struggling with what to say, if anything.

"I'm glad," he manages (lies, maybe? Itachi cannot be quite sure) at last, fixing his gaze on the curtains that have been drawn over the window.

The quiet words hang between them for a few moments, until Sakura laughs bitterly, wrapping the heavy blanket around her as she does so. "Yeah, I'm sure you must be."

Ignoring the acerbic retort – as, for once, she has actually seen right through him – Itachi lets himself glance in her direction again. She is adjusting her position against the sofa with her blanket, and for the first time, he blinks, realizing the implications of her actions.

"What are you doing?" he asks, before he can stop himself.

Sakura gives him a cold look in response, smoothing her fingers through her hair. "Sorry, but I don't believe in sleeping with the enemy," she replies icily, staring up at the blank white ceiling and closing her tired eyes.

She hears nothing but silence for the next few moments, and a tiny, vindictive part of her is glad that the words have seemed to cut him as deeply as she had meant for them to. True enough, when it finally comes, Itachi's voice is a little lower and more strained than usual. "In that case, you may—"

Sakura guesses at the rest of his sentence and preempts the words by waving a hand dismissively in his general direction. "Don't bother," she says coolly. "Trust me – you're going to need the bed a lot more than I will, anyway."

She falls silent then, turning her back to him, and Itachi forces himself to look away, closing his eyes against the shattering pain ranging through his entire chest. It is making him dizzy, now, and it seems unbelievable that just last night, he had fallen asleep with Sakura curled so comfortably, _trustingly_, against him. He distantly remembers being a little confused at the way she had pressed as close to him as humanly possible, unconsciously seeking his touch and presence even in sleep – but, strangely enough, he had not found it unpleasant in the least. The last person to afford him with that kind of unconditional affection and trust had been Shisui, and at least he had not managed to destroy _that _beyond all comprehension and belief.

Not for the first time, an intense wave of mingled sorrow and longing at the mere memory of his former lover washes over Itachi, leaving him feeling even more bereft than customary. He is not sure if this heightened emotional restlessness comes from missing Shisui, which, admittedly, a small part of him is _always_ feeling, as if the loss had happened just yesterday…or the even rawer aftereffects of what has come to pass in the past hours.

He had chosen Sakura over Madara. He had essentially sacrificed the prospect of a true _future _with her; of the possibility of everything that Madara had showed him coming to pass. It is incredibly foolish more than anything, but Itachi really had deluded himself into believing that it could have worked. He has no real interest in ruling Konoha, yes, which is why Madara would certainly compensate for that, but…

He had lost all hope of a real future for himself on the night that Shisui had taken her own life, because as strange as it feels to admit it, Itachi knows that part of him will never cease to be a pacifist at heart. There is more of his father's strong, unyielding iron and steel in his personality, but there are smaller, softer, often-suppressed parts of him that have been shaped entirely by Mikoto – such as the desire, however quiet and subtle, to have his own people (_family?_) to care for; maybe even love. And it had taken almost six years for the embers of such aspirations to light again in the wake of his lover's death; Sakura is the only person he has come close to since then, the only person he could consider ever possibly loving, at this point, and these are embers that have been fueled by Madara's genjutsu, ironically enough.

Itachi puts a cold hand to one of his bruised lungs, inhaling lightly and smelling the residue of the burnt out, heavily pine-scented candles that he had lit earlier. He wants her so much that it frightens him, and because of that, he had made a choice, yes, but his lips twist a little bitterly at the realization that he still is not sure if it had been the right one. He promised Sakura that he would abandon Madara's plan – because if he had not, she would have either killed him with her bare hands, or simply left him behind and returned to the Uzumaki…so that if they ever met again, it would be from across enemy lines. And, because Itachi does not believe in self-delusion, he can easily admit that the prospect of _that _was simply too much to bear.

So he had told Sakura what she wanted – _needed_ – to hear, and now, all he is doing is struggling with the idea of whether that was actually the truth or not. After a few moments of thought, Itachi concludes that, in the end, it all essentially can be summed up in two separate choices.

He can tell Sakura the truth, and somehow, the two of them will have to find a way to eliminate Madara from the equation entirely, as a result. Subsequently, he will allow himself to enjoy the two or so years that Sakura has with him, and when the Uzumaki is fully trained and ready to mount a successful coup against Danzou, reclaiming the position of Rokudaime Hokage – he will have to let Sakura return to Konoha, because of course she would want to go back to the place she calls home.

The thought leaves a bitter aftertaste in Itachi's mouth and makes his chest hurt in a way that has nothing to do with the six broken ribs and two bruised lungs. He has no desire to become accustomed to her, to care for her, love her, even, and then let her go. He does not want to be the object, or plaything; the mere _diversion _that Sakura occupies herself with for two years before returning to her real life in Konoha and the prospect of a future with some proper shinobi. No – Itachi only plays for keeps, in essence, and the very thought of such a state of events is unconscionable. Letting go of Shisui had been difficult enough, and he will not put himself in a position like that ever again.

Itachi's eyes flicker open, then, their customary charcoal-gray shadowed much darker with thought, and he manages to turn his head a little to the side, observing the slow rise and fall of Sakura's slender, orange-clad shoulders. She is clever enough that he has found himself dangerously close to underestimating her intelligence on previous occasions, and their physical conflict earlier today had proved that she has the capacity for and knowledge of techniques that he cannot even begin to guess at. Be that as it may, though, and it is not arrogance that prompts Itachi to think this – but he _can _outmaneuver her. There are still hundreds of ways to fulfill Madara's plan…with larger amounts of discretion. It will be risky, but the end results will be more than worth it.

Still, the idea of betraying Sakura outright like that is, undeniably, just as distasteful as the alternative – kami, seeing her almost start to cry when she had asked him what the Akatsuki had offered him that she couldn't, had startled Itachi more than he thought was possible.

Itachi closes his eyes again, feeling a strange, heavy sort of weight settle over his chest. As if on cue, his ribs give another painful twinge that nearly drives the breath from his body, and the discomfort is only compounded by the creeping beginnings of yet another tension headache. Perhaps the best course of action would simply be to wait until tomorrow to decide what he is to do – he is not looking forward to talking to Sakura about this, but it is more than necessary. At the same time, strangely enough, he desires that things be at least somewhat resolved between them as soon as possible; nothing feels right about this situation.

There are hours until sunrise, though; hours that he will not spend getting any form of rest whatsoever, due to the damage that has been inflicted on him, and despite the momentary blackout that this causes, Itachi sighs minutely, absentmindedly resting a hand on his ribs and feeling the breaks there.

Meditation will do nothing to clear his mind, and it will be a hell of a long night.

-

Around twelve hours later, in response to the blades of sunlight that are slanting through the silky purple curtains and into the room, Sakura slowly opens her eyes. It takes her a few moments to remember where she is, and why. All the healing yesterday had taken an immense toll on her body, one that she still feels the aftereffects of today, and—

She frowns a little, stretching as she does so, as she directs a glance over at her partner, who appears to be sleeping fitfully, breathing less than is healthy, with his fingers curled into a white-knuckled fist around the bedsheets in order to prevent himself from possibly turning in his sleep and agitating his broken ribs further.

…And it looks like she can start the day with an excessive dose of healing as well.

Stifling the tiny pang of remorse she feels – after all, breaking six ribs and bruising both lungs, and then leaving the victim of such an assault untreated for a period of at least fourteen hours, could be considered a form of torture – Sakura pulls herself out of her makeshift bed on the sofa, before stretching thoroughly, and working out the numerous kinks in her spine and stiffness in her legs and neck after spending a less-than-comfortable night sleeping there. She grabs her bag off the floor and heads toward the bathroom, although not without throwing another wary glance back at Itachi and trying to convince herself that it hadn't been vindictiveness that had prompted her to make him suffer through that for so long. It was simply that she had already been almost out of chakra; exhausted to the bone…

No. It hadn't been vindictiveness. It had been sheer irresponsibility.

Sakura nudges the bathroom door shut with her hip, before mechanically reaching for her toothbrush and paste. She shouldn't have injured Itachi like that last night, while knowing that she didn't have enough chakra left to heal him immediately. At first, her intention had been to hurt him as much as possible without the aid of two katana; to inflict as much pain on him as the assassins had inflicted on Naruto, but now the thought makes her a little sick to her stomach. _You shouldn't feel guilty;_ her worn-looking reflection reminds her ruthlessly. _Itachi pretty much planned to kill your best friend, didn't he? And he didn't seem to feel a whole lot of remorse over that. _

The water that works its way free of the tap is clean and clear, but it is far too cold as Sakura cups it in her hands and splashes it over her face a little bitterly. If only Itachi could go back to being the person she had thought he was when she had just turned fifteen…when all she knew about him was that he had ruthlessly murdered his entire family in cold blood, save for one, irrevocably ruined Sasuke's life as a result of that, and, to make matters worse, the fact that he and his organization seemed determined to hunt Naruto down and exterminate him like he was some kind of animal – only for the demon that, through no fault of his own, he held within him.

It hadn't been hard to hate Itachi, then – when he had simply been the essence of all evil. Quite the opposite, really.

On the same note, though; _now _Sakura is displeased to find that it wouldn't be hard to love him, either, if all of these issues that stand between them would just go away_. _If both of them could just stop being so conflicted—

Sakura closes her eyes, too exhausted at the very thought to even entertain similar ones further. And as she slowly rakes her fingers through her tangled hair, she decides that, more than anything else, she hates the shades of gray.

-

Half an hour later, when Sakura finally steps out of the bathroom, working her fingers through her damp hair, she stops dead, even before she manages to close the door behind her.

"Are you trying to _spite_ me or something?" she blurts, too aghast to phrase her thoughts more carefully. "You know that with those kind of injuries, you shouldn't be walking, or drinking, or—"

In response, Itachi simply raises an eyebrow at her, setting his almost-drained mug of heavily fragrant orange tea on the window seat and leaning against the wall a little in reaction to the strain this is taking on his body. "Spite," he replies silkily, drawing his Akatsuki cloak closer around him and letting his eyes linger on the girl. "Why, Sakura, it is amusing that _you_, of all people, should mention that."

Predictably enough, Sakura blushes angrily as she bridges the distance between them and tilts her head back a little to look her partner squarely in the eyes. "Look, I'm sorry, alright?" she hisses, before pausing a moment and giving him a calculating look. "Maybe I should clarify a little – I'm _not _sorry for breaking your bones, but I _do _apologize for not healing you immediately afterward."

Itachi's nerves are worn far too thin by the physical and emotional stress of the situation, and it takes a conscious effort for him to bite back a snarl of frustration as he narrows his eyes at her in warning. Obviously unaffected by the dangerous look in his crimson-and-black gaze, Sakura places her hands on her hips and looks at him evenly. "You're probably not going to like what I'm about to do, but it's necessary," she warns.

Itachi chooses not to reply, although every single one of his muscles does stiffen when the pink-haired kunoichi reaches up, her fingers brushing his collarbone as she carefully unclasps the fastening that holds his Akatsuki cloak in place. The light touch, and the way her fingertips glide over him as she eases it off his shoulders and down his arms (although not the distasteful look that she gives the black-and-red patterned material as she lets it fall to the floor) all do their part to set his traitorous nerve endings on fire. It would not be an exaggeration to say that he has literally dreamed about this before – although, to be fair, on those occasions, Sakura had most definitely not been coldly, clinically evaluating him as if he were a particularly troublesome medical case scenario.

Itachi's expression is unusually guarded as he looks down at her, and, ruthlessly reminding herself that she is a professional, Sakura meets his gaze with equal coolness. Underneath the cloak, he wears his customary black pants and matching, close-fitting black t-shirt – it is lined with silver mesh, with sleeves that come right to his elbows , and her world spins for a moment as she suddenly realizes that, if Itachi only wore a black flak vest over it, he would be dressed exactly like Sasuke.

The pink-haired kunoichi can feel the weight of his nonplussed gaze on her, and she takes a deep breath, trying to regain her composure and customary professional demeanor. "Can you take it off?" Sakura asks calmly, the bite of her fingernails into her palms reminding her not to make the dangerous mistake of confusing the two brothers or even _thinking_ about Sasuke – which means remembering what had happened between them last time – even for a moment. "…Or do you need my help?"

Too late, she remembers that even implying that (god forbid), the great Itachi Uchiha could ever possibly _need_ something, is a major faux pas. Sakura cannot help but flinch a little – both at the cool look in Itachi's eyes in response to the statement, and at the pain that pulling the shirt off _must_ be causing him, although his pride is far too great to allow him to show any sign of weakness or discomfort in front of her.

And then, as if making a point, Itachi allows his grip on the material to relax, allowing the shirt to fall to the floor as well, as he meets her gaze squarely; not accusingly, but careful to keep himself completely devoid of showing any physical emotion. In response, Sakura isn't fully conscious of biting her bottom lip like that, hard enough for it to almost bleed. Distantly, she realizes that her eyes must have widened, but she just _can't stop staring _– and for once, this isn't some kind of dizzying hormonal response to the more than adequate visual stimulation that she is faced with. Before seeing Naruto's state immediately after the attack yesterday, this would have been enough to make her gasp out loud.

Stunned, the pink-haired kunoichi lets her gaze drag slowly down his front – from his muscled upper arms and shoulders to every inch of his flat, toned chest. And the vivid, violent bruise patterns that curl over his leanly muscular torso like shadows.

She had beaten Itachi black and blue. _Literally._

All of a sudden, the inherent conflict in this; the memory of her rage at him last night, when she had found out that Itachi was the reason she had almost lost somebody she loved – versus the sudden knowledge that she had really, _really_ hurt him, is enough to almost overwhelm her. Sakura's throat tightens for a moment, because last night, she had asked him to choose, but right now, if somebody asked her to, she wouldn't be able to do the same.

Because, kami help her, she thinks that she loves them both.

It takes a moment for Sakura to get her voice to even a point where it could be considered understandable, but her words, when they come, are still a little scratchy and uneven. "Do you want to sit down?" she mumbles, unable to keep herself from looking determinedly down at the carpet. "It'll be easier that way…"

His bare feet making absolutely no noise against the plush carpet, Itachi makes his way to the bed in silence, effortlessly masking his slight confusion over Sakura's sudden change in demeanor. Some absolutely ridiculous inner voice that sounded suspiciously like Deidara had firmly asserted that she had simply been reduced to speechlessness for the first few moments; after all, despite the fact that they have essentially been living together for the past five months or so, she has never seen him…shirtless. But then it became evident that it was the violently patterned black, violet, and blue bruises that range the length of his chest that had been drawing Sakura's undivided, unblinking attention like that – _not _silent admiration of the lean, toned musculature of his upper body.

(Not that he finds this knowledge the slightest bit disappointing in the least, Itachi is quick to clarify, for his own benefit.)

He rests his back carefully against the headboard, stretching his legs out in front of him, as he watches his partner through heavy-lidded eyes. Breathing is pulling and painfully stretching at the broken bones far too much; enough to make simply holding his breath seem infinitely preferable. Sakura seems to be biting her lip again – in thought rather than distress this time, Itachi is quick to notice, and, noticing his scrutiny, she inclines her head seriously, before joining him from the opposite side of the bed, intently looking down at his bare chest. She settles herself on her knees, already bringing the chakra to her hands as she visually evaluates the range of injuries. Mending all six bones and healing the lungs will be uncomfortable for both of them, but that cannot be helped.

"I'm…going to start," she informs him, taking a deep breath and making it a point to remind herself that her hormones – meaning, the completely irrational desire to gently smooth her hands over everything that she had broken without a second thought yesterday and maybe press a kiss to his collarbone or jawline and apologize, for real this time – _do not work_ on Akatsuki members whom she still has not resolved things with. "It's going to feel a little cold, alright?"

Itachi murmurs his assent, still watching her with the kind of softly heated intensity that never fails to make Sakura want to abandon every rationalization she has just force-fed herself and just throw herself on top of him.

…Except that now, if she did that, she would likely damage the bones beyond all repair, and it is only this thought that prevents Sakura from engaging in that particular course of action.

Instead, she cautiously runs her fingers down the length of the extraordinary bruising that covers the right side of his chest. She feels Itachi catch his breath, beneath her, and Sakura looks up at him apologetically. "Sorry," she apologizes hastily.

Choosing not to inform her that the slight intake of breath had been more in reaction to the almost-forgotten sensation of another's hands on his skin like this, Itachi only inclines his head a fraction of an inch in acknowledgement, silently willing Sakura to return to her gentle physical examination. She does, with her eyelids lowered in utter concentration as she traces her fingertips over the length of each broken rib, feeling the precise location of the break. He can feel her chakra seeping into his skin, although the way she is touching him makes Itachi nearly forget the physical discomfort caused by the mending process. Her hands are small, the nails trimmed short and painted with some kind of protective, shiny clear coating, he notices for the first time, and nowhere near as calloused as his, and kami, he could get _used _to the sensation of having them tentatively explore every inch of his bare chest, shoulders, and neck…

Thankfully unaware as to the direction that Itachi's thoughts are taking, Sakura spares a moment to look up at him, obviously worried. "That's four of them that have been mended completely – are you still feeling any discomfort?"

"Not there," Itachi replies quietly, albeit without really thinking about his words – and when he realizes what he has just inadvertently admitted, it takes a conscious effort for him to mask his grimace of displeasure.

Sakura tilts her head a little to the side, looking most adorably confused as she runs her hands down the length of his chest, checking for any other irregularities. "Where?" she asks, intrigued. "Is there anything I could do to fix it?"

A small part of Itachi dies a little on the inside.

Misinterpreting the rather distraught expression on his face, Sakura sighs in sudden realization of her mistake. "Oh, it must be your bruised lungs," she incorrectly concludes, looking somewhat sheepish. "I should have taken care of those first, but I can fix those right now, before I finish up your ribs…"

Before Itachi can inform her that there is really no need for that at the moment, she has already carefully slid herself onto his lap, positioning both open palms right over his lungs. For some reason, his skin is a little warmer to the touch than it had been at the beginning, and he seems somewhat restless, beneath her, watching her through lowered eyelids and thick, sooty eyelashes. Beginning to feel a little guilty all over again, Sakura bites her lip in concentration, easily healing the bruises on his lungs and then moving both hands down, in a slow caress that half-soothes, and half sets the rest of Itachi's nerve endings on fire, to the two remaining ribs that she needs to fix. "Does that feel any better?" she inquires, concerned, immediately after she finishes those.

Itachi closes his eyes then, looking strangely like some kind of contented cat. "More than you know," he murmurs, almost to himself. Denying himself the temptation to pull her fully into his arms and act on all of the impulses that he has been trying his best to control for the entirety of their healing session is becoming more and more difficult by the moment; to the point where he is no longer sure whether he wants Sakura to remain in his lap or not.

Unpleasantly enough, she solves this dilemma for Itachi by sliding off him a little uncomfortably, blushing as she does so. "You're sure you're all right?" Sakura asks, making sure that she looks into his eyes and nowhere else. They are _really_ close together, and she can feel the heat emanating from his now-unbruised chest, and _damn it_, who told him that it would be a decent idea to simply lounge around with his shirt off, anyway? It is a patently un-Itachi-like thing to do, anyway, so—

…So why is she feeling so disappointed that he has reached for the one light blanket she had left on the bed last night and is now carefully pulling it up to his shoulders?

Damn it.

For a moment, Sakura struggles with herself, looking down at her fingernails studiously. For the past fifteen or so minutes, it was almost as if she had just been healing him up after an assignment that had become a little more troublesome than was preferable – which had happened often. It was a pleasant return to how things used to be between them, before all of these…complications had ensued. She sighs a little, out of sheer nostalgia, drawing her knees to her chest and absentmindedly hugging her arms around them. Part of her wants nothing more than to forget that this horrible episode ever happened; wants to go back to being missing-nin and partners trying to survive from one day to another – or, better yet, to pretending that they could just be two _normal _people, trying their best to work out a fledgling relationship.

Except that their 'relationship' or 'partnership' or any other adjective that ends in _–ship_ is doomed to crash and burn unless one of them takes the initiative to work their issues out – because, as much as she wishes otherwise, this isn't something that either of them can just pretend never happened.

"So," Sakura begins abruptly, and she is pleased to find that her voice is strong and doesn't waver in the least, even in light of the…sensitive subject matter…that they are about to discuss. "Anyway…about last night…"

She trails off a little uncertainly, looking up at him, and Itachi sighs slightly, closing his eyes. He does not want to talk about this any more than she does, but it cannot be helped. "What do you wish to know?" he returns impassively.

Sakura raises an eyebrow, unimpressed by this tactic. "Everything," she replies, in an equally deadpan tone.

_How very predictable. _Itachi leans back against the pillows propped up against the headboard, taking a deep breath, which actually does not feel all too unpleasant now that he has been healed, and for a moment, he struggles with where to begin.

"…Madara Uchiha," he says at last. "Does the name hold any significance to you?"

Sakura just barely manages to keep herself from inhaling sharply in response, because _this_ must be the person, the _Akatsuki Leader,_ that he was referencing during her failed interrogation attempt yesterday; it isn't a common name, after all, but there must be some sort of mistake—

Judging from the way his partner's eyes are slowly widening and that she is paling at an alarming rate, Itachi is able to gather that, no, apart from the recognition of the clan's name, it does not. Unsurprising, as it is not history commonly taught to those of her level, but he only wanted to make certain of the necessity of explaining all of it over again.

And he does, with Sakura's rapt, unblinking attention. Pleasingly enough, she is an uncommonly rapid learner, pressing him for details and putting pieces of the puzzle together before Itachi even finishes fully discussing the idea at hand. Finally, after half an hour has passed, she leans back against the headboard, frowning pensively, as if trying to figure out whether she finds his necessarily edited retelling of his last meeting with Madara satisfactory or not.

"So," Sakura says absentmindedly, partly just for the sake of sorting out her tangled thoughts. "He wants _you_ in particular to take control of Konoha because…he failed in his attempt to do so all those years ago, and he never stopped believing that the Uchiha Clan should have been the ones to rule the village."

"Correct," Itachi affirms, as he rises from the bed, before slinking over to the window seat and pulling on the shirt that he had discarded earlier.

Sakura watches him quietly, the expression in her eyes unreadable. He seems to be telling her the truth…even though she now can read Itachi well enough to know that he most definitely is not telling her the _whole_ truth. In response, she slides off the bed as well, slinking toward him purposefully, and it only takes her a few steps to corner him where he stands; his back to the wall, with their bodies just a few inches apart. Unfazed by the coolly amused expression on his face, Sakura glares up at him, refusing to back down. "Why did you agree to the terms of his plan?" she asks, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. Even though the past few days have proved to her that she doesn't know Itachi nearly as well as she thought, she stands by what she said last night – he _doesn't_ seem to be the overly ambitious type. He doesn't have anything to prove. "…And don't even think about telling me that you didn't have a choice," the pink-haired kunoichi warns, even more acerbic bite coming into her tone as she remembers their verbal conflict of the previous night.

This is exactly the question that Itachi had hoped to avoid most, and, infuriatingly enough, it seems as if Sakura simply refuses to accept an ambiguous answer…although her physical attempts to intimidate him are only serving to remind the elder Uchiha that, with one quick movement on his part, he could easily reverse their roles, and _that_ could prove to be most interesting indeed.

The tangible steely determination and defiance in her posture, not to mention her fiery expression, though, makes the prospect of such a thing decidedly impractical. For a moment, Itachi allows himself to subtly admire her – and _only_ because he cannot think of a more effortless outmaneuvering of her question, and that he knows Sakura well enough to realize that this will effectively deter her from broaching the topic again, he takes this action one small step further.

Intentionally lowering his guards like this goes against all of his natural instincts, but this time, Itachi deliberately, appreciatively, and very obviously lets his gaze drag slowly from Sakura's wide eyes to the tips of her toes, and then back up again. "As I told you earlier," he murmurs in a purposely low tone, stepping even closer, in order to make it very clear as to what he is supposedly considering doing to her. "He offered me what I desire most."

Just as Itachi had intended her to, Sakura freezes, her completely stunned expression making an incongruous counterpoint to the slow heat in his gaze. He couldn't _possibly_ mean what she thinks he does.

No. No. _What the hell,_ no. Why would Itachi even imply that _she _is what he desires most? Almost as disturbingly, why would this Madara Uchiha person would essentially…whore her out to him? What would be the logic and reason behind _that? _It's not like this unknown, powerful stranger has the power to be like, _oh, Itachi, if you just agree with my evil plan to take control of Konoha, I'll hunt down your little partner for you, wrap her up in a pretty pink ribbon, and see to it that she ends up in your room on one of these nights…_

Sakura shudders a little at the very thought, the implications of the idea scaring her beyond all belief, and…well, _kami_, now she can't stop herself from thinking about it, about him, about what it would be like—

She shoves those thoughts away, biting her lip hard. _No. _There is something clearly wrong here. She is obviously misunderstanding his statement somehow, but right now, she doesn't exactly care to find out the specifics of this. As a matter of fact, this can just go into the list of things that she can pretend has never, ever happened to her.

Trying to calm herself, Sakura swallows over her dry throat, forcing herself to keep her gaze level as she looks back up at Itachi – even though, inadvertently, she had backed away from him a few paces, as a result of her thoughts. "Can you take him?" she asks abruptly, her nerves too rattled to consider phrasing this any smoother; kami, she hasn't ever even seen Madara Uchiha, but there is already something about him that frightens her so much that it sends chills down her spine.

Itachi blinks, momentarily startled by the sudden change in pace. "…Pardon?"

Sakura crosses her arms over her chest defensively. "You can get rid of him, right?" she asks coldly. "_We_ can get rid of him?"

Itachi closes his eyes for a fraction of a second, thoroughly thrown for a loop at the realization that his partner is discussing the possibility of mounting an assassination attempt on one of the three most powerful shinobi in the entire history of the Fire Country – if not the world itself – as if she is doing nothing of greater consequence than asking if he can kill a spider for her.

Impatient at the lack of a response, Sakura places her hands on her hips, glaring at him anew. "Whatever technique he's used for so long to keep himself alive _must_ be fading. Either he's going to need to take a new host body within the next two years—"

Itachi winces, almost imperceptibly.

"—Or he'll just wither away," Sakura finishes, having not noticed the tiny physical gesture. She frowns up at him thoughtfully, smoothing a few locks of hair flat against her collarbone in an instinctive nervous gesture. "As his protégé, of sorts, do you have any idea who he's considering taking as his next host? Because he shouldn't be _allowed_ to even take a host body; eliminating him will be all kinds of difficult afterward, once he's returned to full power…"

She gives him an expectant look, and Itachi actually coughs as an excuse to look down at the carpet for the briefest of seconds, shaking his head as he does so. "I do not," he replies abruptly.

Sakura mulls this over for a few moments, her eyes shadowed with thought. At long last, she holds one of her hands out to him reluctantly. "Would you like to talk about this over…lunch?" she asks, a little hesitantly.

After a few tense moments, Itachi reaches out, entangling his fingers with hers, and allowing Sakura to lead him out of the room. His fingers are cool, and the gently intimate gesture does its part to soothe her strained nerves; to her surprise, though, he makes no move to release her once they are both in the hallway. They are silent for the entire elevator ride down, and for the first time, as she sneaks a discreet look up at him, Sakura briefly wonders at the toll that all of this has taken on him. Itachi looks incredibly weary and deeply exhausted to the bone in every way – and if he were anybody else, she would use all of her advanced medical skills to come to the complex diagnosis that he really just…needs a hug. And at least three weeks of well-deserved vacation time.

Except that, even after all they have been through and done together, part of her still cringes at the idea of thinking about how Itachi would react to something as blatantly affectionate and touchy-feely as a simple hug. Not to mention that, as a missing-nin, three weeks of vacation would definitely lead to both of them going completely broke, nearly starving to death, and having to spend every night camping out in forests of suspicious quality. It's not like they could ever afford to indulge in the relaxing, romantic escapes that Lightning is supposed to be famous for, according to the numerous advertising pamphlets that are strategically located all over their hotel.

…Or that Itachi could ever be receptive to the idea, and Sakura actually giggles aloud at the very thought of what his reaction would be if she ever suggested it to him.

He directs a somewhat nonplussed look down at her, and, trying her best to mask her amusement, Sakura gestures vaguely at a tiny café on the nearest street corner with her free hand – Itachi still has possession of the other one, and she isn't quite sure how that makes her feel. "Does that one look alright?" she suggests tentatively.

The café thus indicated is adorned with bright pink umbrellas that ornament the center of each small, outdoor table for two, and despite the subtly revolted expression on his face at the very thought of being associated in any way with such an establishment, Itachi warily approaches the café and orders a sushi platter, keeping his eyes firmly downcast and mumbling the entire order in a complete monotone. Balancing the plate in question in one hand, he returns to Sakura, who seems to have found them a table with a less violently pink umbrella…and who favors him with a surprisingly shy smile and what could _possibly_ be the faintest of blushes, in return.

It is a new look on her, one that Itachi finds that he rather likes – although the expression is partly born out of Sakura's not-too-pleasant thoughts that something about their interactions today, _now_ especially, feels somewhat off balance. They have shared countless comfortable meals before, but today, the atmosphere is strangely tense, in a way that it hadn't been even when they had just been beginning to get to know one another.

Even though she really doesn't have that much experience in real romantic interpersonal relationships, Sakura can easily conclude that this newfound awkwardness has to be because of the reality of her and Itachi's rapidly changing relationship – kami, it seems as if the dynamics between them are shifting incredibly between one day to another. Part of her just wants to let her guard down around him and see what happens between them, but her rational mind seems to be doing nothing but vehemently arguing the wisdom of that point. Being torn in two directions like this is incredibly frustrating, and Sakura frowns unconsciously, propping her chin up in one hand.

Misinterpreting her expression somewhat, Itachi sits up a little straighter, hastily ceasing his introspective contemplation of the irritatingly insubstantial chilled raspberry tea and chiding himself for forgetting that she had not intended this to be a simple social excursion "Did you wish to talk about—" he begins quickly, but Sakura interrupts him by shaking her head, looking a little flustered.

"No," she says, with a firmness that she doesn't feel; although, to her displeasure, when she moves her hand away from her uncomfortably flushed face, relocating it to the table, her fingertips brush the edge of his hand. Infuriatingly enough, Sakura can swear that Itachi looks amused when she hastily snatches it away, determinedly sandwiching it between her knees. "Let's talk about something…normal," she finishes, on impulse. Despite the intense protests of her more rational thoughts, she is still sixteen and sitting across from a man who she happens to be inordinately fascinated with. In turn, despite said individual's questionable allegiances and the presence of more pressing matters, Sakura has a little more on her mind than the necessity of making a plan to assassinate the most powerful man in the history of her country and, as a result, possibly saving the fate of the free world.

The pink-haired kunoichi flinches a little, hiding the gesture by studiously looking down into her sweet raspberry tea. But kami, when she phrases it like _that_, it just sounds selfish.

Meanwhile, Itachi tilts his head to the side a fraction of an inch, actually looking the tiniest bit…confused. "Normal?" he inquires warily.

Sakura rolls her eyes expressively, all too ready to make some kind of scathing retort, but then—

Nothing.

And Sakura blinks, momentarily stunned.

The realization that she has saved lives and taken them, and lost her virginity on the night after a horrific, violent, bloody takeover of the village she loves, and has fought and killed and would die for, but at the same time, she has _no idea_ about what normal people do or talk about, on something as mundane as…a date, is something that, for the briefest of moments, makes Sakura's blood run cold. By her age, it is something that any civilian girl would have had hundreds of, and she is staring wide-eyed at Itachi, at a total loss for words, unsure of whether this newfound knowledge makes her want to laugh or cry.

"I, um," she mumbles, blushing even more hotly, because seriously, how can she and Itachi ever have a relationship if both of them are completely clueless about _everything _like this? Frantically searching for any halfway-decent conversational topic underneath the surface of the sun, Sakura finally, desperately blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. "When's your birthday?"

A long, uncomfortable silence ensues, during which Itachi rapidly attempts to determine whether he had misconstrued the statement in any way, and Sakura seriously considers ripping the umbrella off of the table and beating herself into unconsciousness with it. What the hell. Seriously. _What the hell _was that? Maybe she and Itachi are just doomed to be the most socially awkward not-quite-couple ever, and no matter what she does, she will never be able to repair this horrible pit of doom that they have fallen into.

Sakura's agonizing contemplations are finally interrupted, by way of Itachi's customary – if not a little confused – monotone. "Two weeks from today," he realizes, now mildly surprised at the sudden, almost unpleasant realization. He is going to live to see one year more than he had ever meant to, but Itachi is distracted by any similar, deeper thoughts on the issue by the way his partner gasps dramatically, nearly knocking her glass of tea to the ground as she does so.

"_Seriously_?" Sakura whispers in a rather conspiratory tone, leaning closer to him and seizing on this wholly welcome distraction from the utter hell that their lives have been for the past few days or so. Her skin is still pleasantly flushed and her eyes are shining with palpable excitement, and before Itachi can even gather his senses enough to make some sort of sarcastic comment about the fact that he has nothing to gain from lying to her about this, she actually (accidentally) stamps on his right foot underneath the table in the height of her passion. "Why didn't you _tell_ me?" she exclaims, all awkwardness forgotten – although, after noting the somewhat pained expression on his face, Sakura blushes again, slowly and apologetically rubbing her foot over his. "Sorry…"

At first, Itachi is too busy being somewhat lost as to how such a series of actions on her part could be such an intoxicating mix of unnecessarily violent and painful and completely, _hopelessly_ sexy, to formulate an immediate reply. "It never seemed relevant in the least," he manages at last, still rather distracted by her extensive array of…distractions.

Sakura scowls at him, abruptly ceasing her foot's ministrations against his. "Of course it's relevant! You're turning—" she pauses for a moment, looking at him thoughtfully; he should be five years older than her, so… "Twenty-one?"

Itachi nods minutely, still looking rather vexed at his partner's inexplicable and strange capacity to get incredibly high-strung over the most ridiculous of things…and that he is obviously missing the point of this entire conversation. Unfazed, Sakura shoves her common sense to the most distant reaches of her mind, before reaching out and quite happily taking his hand in her own. "So," she says, drawing the word out. "What do you want to do?"

Itachi blinks at her, nonplussed. "…Nothing."

Sakura frowns, looking at him as if the very prospect is horribly scandalizing her. "You can't do _nothing_," she replies firmly.

Now thoroughly unnerved, Itachi attempts to extricate himself from the pink-haired kunoichi's grip. "I can and I will," he returns, his tone icy.

Sakura gives him a rather dangerous sort of smile, tightening her hold even further and reminding him just who she was apprenticed to. "Ooh, but you can drink now," she beams persuasively, looking unnecessarily overjoyed as to this fact.

Itachi gives her a deadpan look, and Sakura makes a face at him. "_Legally_," she amends, already thinking happy thoughts about bars and clubs and margaritas and loud music and decent human socialization, not to mention the elusive possibility of maybe forcing Itachi to dance with her again. Except that it should involve a lot more close contact this time, their bodies pressing together on a crowded, smoky dance floor, or maybe a dark, secluded corner somewhere, and—

Deciding that he may as well complete the crash-and-burn trend of the past few days by raining on Sakura's little parade now; Itachi sighs a little, absentmindedly smoothing his long ponytail out. "I do not and have never partaken in any alcoholic beverages, nor do I have any desire to ever do so," he informs her, a little superciliously.

…At which point Sakura chokes violently on her tea, her cheerful fantasies having been horribly interrupted. And even after Itachi spends the next two minutes valiantly attempting to resuscitate her, she waves him back to his side of their small table, looking too irritated to pretend to be graceful. "Fine. So. _That's_ out of the question, then."

Itachi smirks a little in misplaced triumph, and Sakura only glares at him a little harder, beginning to trail her fingertips menacingly over his calloused palm. This, in turn, only makes the elder Uchiha wonder again if, from now on, every time Sakura tries to be threatening, he will only be able to be uncomfortably aware of what that does to him.

Taking advantage of his distraction, Sakura decides to take on a new tack of questioning. "What did you do last year?" she asks, seemingly innocently.

Itachi actually spares a moment to think about this one. "If I recall correctly, I spent the day verging on unconsciousness, and the entire evening and night coughing up blood," he replies, quite seriously.

Predictably enough, Sakura shudders, interlacing his fingers with hers. "That's why we need to do something extra good this year," she returns quietly. The thought that, if it had not been for _Madara_, of all people, Itachi wouldn't have lived to turn twenty-one, and they could have never met; that to her, he would only have ever been Sasuke's older brother, the tragic hero, sends shivers down her spine.

Itachi is silent for a few moments, although there is the barest flicker of some unidentifiable emotion in his eyes. It is gone in the next second, though, and he raises an eyebrow at her wryly. "It seems as if I hardly have a choice in the matter, after all," he deadpans.

Sakura smirks at him. "You're _learning. _How sweet," she teases, before regarding him thoughtfully. "I have some ideas – I mean, a few days ago, I was looking through those information books about the tourist industry here, and you know how Lightning is supposedly famous for their hot spring resorts, right? Well, I remember seeing that there was this one package for a resort about fifty miles from here, where we would pay five thousand ryou for three days. It includes twenty-four hour access to their private springs for two, and for an extra thousand, we would be able to use the – um, I think it was the couples' do-it-yourself spa and massage center – as well. Doesn't it sound relaxing? And there's all this other stuff…"

Oblivious, Sakura continues to delineate the various benefits and perks that come with this exclusive travel package, although in all honesty, Itachi stops hearing anything after _private springs for two, _and just when he begins to recover, there is something about _spa and massage center_, and…

With every minute that passes, it is becoming more and more clear that today really is not his day.

"That may be acceptable," Itachi manages, somewhat unsure as how his voice manages to stay quite so cool and detached even when his thoughts are decidedly otherwise.

"Hold on," Sakura says, nudging her plastic chair away from the table and rising, before beginning to make her way over to the counter. "I'm sure they'll have one of those information books here, if I ask for one; they seem to be everywhere…"

True enough, Sakura returns after a few minutes, deeply immersed in flipping through her newly acquired guidebook. Instead of going back to her chair, she makes a sharp detour instead, resting her hip and half-leaning on the arm of his, so that both of them can read it easier. It must be an uncomfortable position, though, and Itachi fleetingly considers pulling her into his lap instead – however, it would be blatantly out of his normal character to do so, and therefore, taking that course of action would involve the risk of Sakura having a heart attack of sheer shock.

Luckily for both of them, she seems to be quite unaware of his thoughts. "Oh," Sakura comments, at last, and the dejection in her tone is enough to call Itachi's attention back to the book in front of him. "It's…damn, we're in the wrong season for the five thousand ryou package. It's only available during autumn or winter; now, we're going to have to pay eight thousand, and that's ridiculous," she finishes indignantly, flipping the book shut, and returning back to her seat, visibly displeased. "…Sorry."

As would be expected of him, Itachi smoothly and coherently responds something along the lines of it not being her fault, while simultaneously busying himself in an attempt to look like this newly disclosed information does not affect him in the least.

Sakura props her chin up with one hand, dejected. For the kami's sake, if he didn't have to be so damned _unreadable_ all the time – she can't even tell if he actually even liked the hot springs idea or not. "Fine," she decides, at last. "What did you do when you were with – you know…Kisame?"

This question, again, gives him a moment's pause. Itachi can remember one specific instance – his nineteenth birthday, actually, when Kisame had thrown a surprisingly Sakura-like fit about how he just _had_ to perform some ridiculously inane activity on this one particular day of the year. Subsequently, Itachi had been dragged along to watch an utterly implausible and logic-defying movie about…vampires.

He tells Sakura this, and predictably enough, her eyes brighten noticeably as she sits up straighter. "That's perfect," she sighs contentedly. "Well, seeing as we can't go to the hot springs resort, and all. Would dinner, a movie, and…walking around…be all right, for you?" she asks cautiously.

Itachi only nods in assent, intrigued by how much care and thought she is putting into it. This is enough for Sakura, though, and she smiles at him, smoothing a lock of hair behind her ear. The idea of a casual, _normal_ night out with him is surprisingly intoxicating; a night where – even though it may be ridiculously impractical – they can just forget everything else and be Itachi and Sakura. Not _conflicted, tormented, S-class criminal Itachi_ and _general foil to Itachi in every way that matters Sakura_, but just…pretend to be a normal guy and a normal girl.

_So it's like a—_

Sakura doesn't realize that she had actually said the words aloud until Itachi raises an eyebrow at her inquisitively. "A…what?" he inquires, his voice as impassive as always.

For reasons that Itachi doubts he will ever understand, Sakura literally jumps out of the chair and hastily speed-walks over to the counter, mumbling something incoherent about returning the guidebook now that they have no use for it, and she subsequently refuses to look him in the eye for the next half hour.

-

Despite the happenings of their actually quite lighthearted interaction at the café, it takes Sakura the better part of two weeks to even begin sorting out her feelings toward Itachi. They are trying to rebuild a decent working partnership and some semblance of trust, but she most certainly does not forgive him and, whenever she gets a letter from Naruto (they correspond regularly now, since she is traveling deeper into Lightning with every passing day, which means that the possibility of making trips out to Waterfall to visit him is becoming increasingly impractical), she doubts that she ever will. Naruto is recovering flawlessly, yes, due to the help of the Kyuubi sealed within him, but the sight of him, immediately after the attack, is irrevocably burned into Sakura's memory.

It's a complicated feeling; hating so many aspects of the person she's falling in love with, hating that she really does love the parts of Itachi that she doesn't hate; hating him for being so imperfect in the first place, and, above all, hating herself for falling for him, regardless.

_I didn't choose this_, Sakura reminds herself mercilessly, and on a frequent basis. _And if I keep doing this to myself, I really am going to go insane. _

-

Late during the night of June eighth, it is raining. The sky is an ominous grayish black, slit with blades of lightning that are an unusual shade of pale purple mingled with silver, and each crash of thunder makes the floor of the small inn tremble slightly.

One more flash of lightning, and all of the already-dim lights in the room flicker. Quietly, careful not to disturb his partner – who permanently seems to have taken to the habit of sleeping on the sofas in their various hotel rooms, and who has a pillow wedged firmly on top of her head, as well as being covered by two separate blankets – Itachi turns out the small, orange-glowing lamps, before slowly leaning into the window seat and observing the summer storm raging around the countryside.

It seems poetically appropriate, somehow. For all of Itachi's birthdays, it has always been raining, a fact which his mother and Shisui, in particular, would continuously lament. He never had any issue with it, however; he does not feel that the day in question is particularly significant.

Except for this one – tomorrow. Because, eleven months ago, he had _died_, and this defies all logic and reason and fate to such a degree that it is almost sickening.

Any other man would be thankful for such a twist in fate, but, as he has always done on this particular night, for the past almost-six years, Itachi thinks about Shisui, and his mother and father, and death, and about _being_ dead, and now, once again, being forced to be living without them, and he feels nothing toward that particular twist in fate but the vaguest sense of guilt and regret.

-

June ninth proves to be a day worse than any other in recent memory. It is depressingly, morosely and monochromatically gray; it rains torrentially until the early evening, so that the streets of the large city that they are staying in come to look more like rivers. The howling wind threatens to uproot trees and results in a few branches scraping loudly and constantly against the window. The power goes out, leaving both of them shivering somewhat and too proud to admit it, and halfway through the afternoon, the ceiling starts to leak, meaning that Itachi and Sakura are forced to stay on the left side of the room or risk getting drenched.

Surprisingly enough, Sakura also kisses him good morning, a gesture which leaves Itachi completely stunned for no less than a minute. She attempts to make both of them cups of orange tea afterward, which results in a dubious concoction so overly sweet and milky it is nearly undrinkable – but which Itachi partakes in without comment. Her sudden civility is pleasing, and he fleetingly allows himself to wonder if this means that she has finally decided that he deserves forgiveness for what had happened two weeks ago.

It is difficult for him, though. Itachi keeps remembering things that he tries his best to forget, during any other day of the year. It is on this one, and October twelfth, that the ghosts – figurative, although their presence is so tangible that it could be literal – of those he has lost, gained back for the most fleeting period of time, and lost again come back to haunt him. When Sakura seemingly casually presents him with a wrapped volume of Shakespeare's most famous tragedies, offhandedly saying something about how it caught her eye and seemed to be something he would like, Itachi almost pulls her into his arms; almost kisses her hard, because in that instant, she reminds him so much of Shisui (and not just because of the uncanny physical resemblance, either) that it hurts. Shisui, who, every year, would buy him a new anthology of tragic poems, each by a different author, and tell him with a scowl that he would be better off if he read something happier.

Itachi almost kisses Sakura for another reason, as well – she is the only real, tangible presence he has left; the only thing that he has that is more than a memory…and the only thing, poetry aside, that is a more than adequate distraction from his conflicted thoughts.

-

Around five in the evening, Sakura dares crossing the invisible line that confines both her and Itachi to the left side of the room, wincing a little at the sensation of her bare feet above the soaked, mildew-smelling carpet. Tentatively, she stands on her tiptoes, looking out of the window into the streets below – the rain has finally stopped, and she can see that there are some people already brave enough to venture out onto the streets, clustering into groups and heading for various restaurants and coffee shops. There is a tiny ray of sunlight breaking through the dark clouds, and although the wind is enough to make the passerby duck their heads a little, it isn't nearly as bad as it had been earlier.

Satisfied, Sakura turns away and returns to the bed, flopping down on it and cheerfully interrupting what she is sure would be some great Shakespearean angst. "Are we still on for tonight?" she asks a little self-consciously, glancing toward Itachi, who is completely immersed in the book.

"Of course," he replies calmly, and despite her better judgment, the two simple words send a brief fissure of excitement tingling through her nerves.

Sakura manages to mumble some sort of semi-coherent reply, before making a swift exit to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her and leaning on it in an attempt to calm herself. Things have slowly been improving between them, so tonight should be just fine. The only difficult part is reconciling her kunoichi instincts, most of which are still telling her to be _very_ careful around him and keep her distance, with…the rest of her, which has different ideas entirely.

The water from the shower is too cold as a result of the storm, and Sakura shivers in the cramped stall, the sound echoing off the frosted glass sliding door. Does it make her unprofessional and a substandard kunoichi to just want him to have a decent night; to maybe distract him a little from whatever emotional conflict he is going through? Even though, as Itachi has told her before, she really does not have the capacity to truly know what he has been through, Sakura would like to think that she understands a little, at least. And it wouldn't take an idiot to know that this day, in particular, would be more than a little emotionally draining for him.

Besides, as undeniably stupid on her part as it may be, Sakura cares for him – and she remembers what he had done for her, on _her_ sixteenth birthday…which had been difficult for her, as well. And partners are supposed to look out for one another, after all.

So she will put her reservations about Itachi aside, just for tonight.

Sakura forces her thoughts to be relatively calm until she steps out of the shower, carefully wrapping the heavy black towel that she and Itachi share, around herself. It is welcomingly warm, but that does nothing to soothe her nerves as she stares glumly between her reflection in the cracked mirror and her bag, which is sitting on the corner of the bathroom sick.

_What am I going to wear?_

It is the kind of frivolous question that Sakura hasn't asked herself in more years than she cares to remember – and, frustratingly enough, it is accompanied by an ominous stab of foreboding as well. What is one supposed to wear on a…date-thing?

Not for the first time, Sakura is nearly overwhelmed by the sudden sensation of missing Ino; missing home. Her first real date – damn it, she would have spent the entire day at Ino's house, trying on every single outfit that they could get their hands on. Ino would have been as overbearing as always and insisted on doing Sakura's hair and makeup, and they would have painted their nails together and been normal teenage girls for a change, and talked about and incessantly analyzed the guy who Sakura was supposed to be going out with. Most likely, it would have been Naruto, or perhaps Neji or Lee or Kiba. Hell, maybe even Shino. Ino would have pulled out her incredible library of magazines and grilled her about what to do and what not to do and what to expect.

Instead, Sakura is standing, alone, in a tiny, dilapidated bathroom in the Land of Lightning, about two hundred miles away from everything that she once called home. Trying to figure out all these things on her own, and kind of failing at it.

This wasn't how things were supposed to work out.

_Yeah, _Inner Sakura reminds her ruthlessly, as Sakura watches herself pick up the ivory eyelet lace dress from so many months ago, holding it to her body speculatively. _But when life gives you lemons, you're supposed to make lemonade, right?_

-

The lemonade turns out to be pretty sweet.

The dress fits just as perfectly as it did when Sakura had first worn it – the hem still hits right at the knee, and the low-necked halter that ties at a simple knot behind her neck still causes her the same amount of distress – and she can't help but smile at her reflection as she remembers her and Itachi's encounter in that one broom closet, during that particular assignment at the museum. She wears the crystal-decorated ornamental comb that Naruto had given her in her hair, and puts on a little makeup, as well. The sheer novelty of all of this experience, strangely enough, distracts Sakura from her more troubled thoughts. It goes against her natural instincts, but it feels nice to have the freedom to just look…pretty. In the Forest of Death, Kin Tsuchi had chided her for her vanity; for her long, luxurious locks, unbecoming and impractical for a serious kunoichi, and since then, Sakura has been careful not to make the same mistake, relegating her appearance to the bottom of her priorities.

She brushes her fingers through her now-dry, straight hair thoughtfully. It falls to the middle of her shoulder blades, now. Maybe it is possible to find a balance, but right now, Sakura is just going to enjoy being the other extreme, for once.

Finally extricating her last accessory from the depths of her bag, Sakura smoothes her palms over her skirt skittishly, checks the straps of her matching, low-heeled white sandals, and gives herself one last, semi-nervous look in the mirror, before making her way into the other room.

At first, Itachi doesn't notice her – which is good, because Sakura is entirely too busy noticing him. He seems to have unconsciously followed her example in finding some different clothes to wear; the black pants are the same, yes, but Sakura can't help but admire the way the new elbow-sleeved, dark red shirt fits him. For his part, Itachi is pacing back and forth in front of the window while carefully, somewhat obsessive-compulsively combing out his long hair, and she blinks, realizing that it is the first time that she has seen it unbound. It is long and silky, falling to the middle of his back, and it _should_ make him look more feminine, but the effect is actually quite the opposite.

It takes Itachi a moment to sense the curious gaze fixed on his back, and the moment he does, he immediately and a little self-consciously begins to gather his long mane into its customary ponytail, before turning to face his partner, who is leaning against the wall and looking somewhat amused.

…Which ends up having the rather untoward effect of making him, for the briefest of moments, actually _forget_ what he had been doing. Itachi remembers Sakura wearing this dress – the day after he had first met her, during their little conflict in the museum, and he also distinctly remembers thinking that it was _frighteningly impractical,_ if his memory serves him correctly. But then, that had been in those infinitely preferable days where he was still cold and detached and professional enough to only think about things in terms of practicality and logic; most definitely _not_…emotions and impulses, and other unnecessarily troublesome things of the sort.

Sakura smirks at him a little, and Itachi belatedly remembers that his fingertips are still tangled in his hair. A little awkwardly, he pulls them free, still looking at her and rather unsure of what to say, if anything.

"I just need to finish this part," Sakura assures him quite innocently, and it is only then that Itachi notices that she has an impressive length of very thick pink ribbon twined around her wrist. "…And then we can leave in a few minutes, or something."

He murmurs his assent, and under the guise of rectifying the state of his now hopelessly disarrayed hair, Itachi simultaneously sneaks a discreet look at Sakura and the ribbon, while slightly wondering what she intends to do with it—

It becomes clear within a few moments, when his sweet, _innocent_ partner wraps the accessory in question around her slender waist a few times, before tying the remaining length into an intricate, floppy bow, and giving herself a happy little smile.

A bow.

Like the kind of bow one would put on a present.

Upon making this realization, Itachi's subconscious mind has to stifle the rather strong impulse to abandon the idea of leaving in a few minutes, and maybe…take a shower, instead.

And to make matters worse, within the next second, his subconscious mind has to suppress the even stronger impulse to drag Sakura along with him, as well.

For her part, Sakura merely gives him a nonplussed look, wondering why Itachi seems to have suddenly become distracted enough to get his fingers actually tangled between the elastic ponytail holder and his hair.

-

Within the first ten minutes of their…social excursion, Itachi learns three new things about Sakura.

He finds that she is surprisingly efficient when it comes to untangling hair and forming satisfactory ponytails, even when he had proven to be…less than cooperative. Itachi also realizes that he finds the act of holding hands somewhat unsettling, but Sakura seems to feel as if it is reassuring and comforting; therefore, he allows the contact. Not to mention that he still believes that her footwear, at least, is ridiculously impractical, and he would feel completely at fault if she slipped and fell because of his negligence and selfish personal desires.

Last but not least, Itachi discovers that his partner's moral compass is a little bit more skewed than he would have ever believed.

"Come on," she hisses, holding his hand a little bit tighter. "It's _really_ not that big of a deal. The line is stretching up to the end of the block, and we'll have to stand at the end, which means that if it rains again, we'll get soaked and it's going to _suck._"

Itachi simply shakes his head disapprovingly, once again attempting to guide Sakura to the back of the line of civilians that are queuing up in front of the theater. "No," he hisses in return. "It is lacking in integrity and an abuse of power."

Sakura fairly buries her feet into the ground, continuing their heated, whispered discussion. "You're a freaking _S-class criminal_ and you won't use genjutsu to sneak into a movie?" she scowls. "That's practically a rite of passage! What kind of shinobi _are_ you?"

"A morally upright one," Itachi returns dispassionately. "I have my standards, Sakura."

Now thoroughly frustrated, Sakura resorts to giving him her most shamelessly pleading look. "We can drop some money off at the ticket booth on our way out, I promise."

Itachi freezes, unpleasantly reminded of how this pleading look had led to his being completely manipulated at Madara's hands, and Sakura takes advantage of his moment of weakness to cleverly and swiftly cast a concealment genjutsu over both of them. Smirking with triumph, she effortlessly guides the glowering and reluctant Itachi through the crowd, past the ticket collectors, and into the theater. "See?" she beams, disengaging it as soon as they are safely inside and carefully making their way into the very back row of seating. "Didn't that save us hours of time and agony?"

Predictably enough, Itachi admits nothing.

The movie itself, which starts shortly afterward, is an imported foreign film which has subtitles and is intellectual and interesting and just the kind of thing Itachi would like, which makes Sakura just a little proud that she had found an advertisement for it while casually perusing a newspaper a few days ago. For her part, she is a little too distracted by the novelty of the situation to even pay significant attention to what is going on, plot-wise. This whole…_let's-pretend-we're-normal-people-who-are-just-on-a-date_-thing is even better than she thought it would be, and for the first time in months, Sakura finds herself completely relaxing. It is so nice to forget that there about the war going on in the shinobi world – about Danzou, political coups and intrigue, the Akatsuki, Madara…and that she's going to be in the middle of a rebellion to reclaim Konoha, maybe sometime soon. And an attempt to assassinate Madara, which could have implications for the fate of the Akatsuki and the world.

It is so nice to pretend that she has nothing more pressing on her mind than whatever intrigue is happening _on_ screen…and the man sitting next to her.

As she leans against Itachi's shoulder, almost unconsciously, Sakura knows that she doesn't regret becoming a kunoichi, even though it has complicated her existence a million times over. It is an inextricable part of who she is, and she knows that deep down, she wouldn't trade her life as a shinobi, for the world. It can just be – horribly stressful, sometimes, and maybe she just needs to do this more often. To step back and try to enjoy and experience the more normal parts of life.

After about fifteen minutes, Itachi slowly readjusts his arm, seemingly casually settling it around Sakura's shoulders and drawing her closer to him, and she makes it a point to studiously examine the screen in front of them, so that he won't see her smile.

-

By the time they leave the theater, it is dark, and Sakura gives Itachi a self-satisfied smirk as she makes it a point to take a detour by the ticket booth and subtly deposit a stack of currency at the side of it. "There," she quips. "Are you happy now?"

Itachi refrains from mentioning that he has actually been quite content and surprisingly relaxed for the entire duration of their evening thus far, in favor of subtly snaking an arm around her waist. This action garners a surprised but pleased look from her as she leans into his touch, and the small group of irritatingly obnoxious adolescent boys that have been following the two of them at a short distance and shooting very appreciative (and unwelcome) looks at Sakura groans audibly, before dispersing.

"It's only about eight, so the restaurants all look like they'll be really busy for about another hour or so," Sakura comments after a few moments of observation, tilting her head back to look at him. "Would it be all right if we just walked around for a while?"

Itachi simply inclines his head a fraction of an inch, and she smiles at him again, leading the two of them on an abstract path throughout the sidewalks of the city. To be completely honest, he is a little distracted as well – it is pleasant to feel as if Sakura trusts him and is at ease around him again, and the way she _fits_ against him is just as disarming. He can feel the gentle sway of her hips as she walks, and for a moment, his step falters as he realizes that he hasn't engaged in such casually intimate contact since his walks in the forest with Shisui.

Every inch of the city seems to be lit up in a way that is nearly blinding, pulses of loud music emanating from every open restaurant or clothing store, and Sakura hums along to it absentmindedly, even as Itachi notices that she is slowly leading them away from the center of the city itself. The new location is darker, lit with softer and more subtle threads of lighting that are twined through tree branches. It is a lot quieter here as well, although he can still hear faint snatches of laughter and conversation at infrequent intervals.

"We're at the edge of the city park," Sakura informs him, as if reading his mind. "I thought it looked prettier." She nods toward one of the nearest trees composedly. "Shall we sit?"

It is a weeping willow, trailing pale purple flowers to the ground. The flowers have an overwhelmingly sweet scent, and Sakura plucks one nearby blossom, sniffing it absentmindedly as she slowly sinks to the ground, bending her legs at the knee and tucking them at her side. Itachi joins her in silence, and for a few minutes, they are both immersed in their own private thoughts.

After a while, Sakura interrupts his reverie by leaning closer, tentatively resting the side of her body against him, and instinctually, Itachi wraps an arm around her shoulders, giving her something more comfortable to lean into. Despite the serenity of this entire situation, of the whole evening, his thoughts are anything but calm. He has not felt this relaxed and at peace for six years, and perversely enough, he feels _guilty_ for feeling this way. As far as Itachi is concerned, he lost the right to feel any emotion resembling happiness on the day he watched his lover commit suicide; on the day that he killed his own mother and father and ruined his little brother's life.

Sakura looks up at him then, a little uncertainly, as if sensing her partner's stormy mood. In actuality, she cannot read Itachi's expression, but she is struck with this sudden, irrational desire to know whether all of this had worked, even a little.

"Are you happy?"

The words are so soft that at first, Sakura doesn't even realize that she had said them aloud, instead of just thinking them to herself, and on instinct, she freezes, hating her stupid propensity to put her foot in her mouth. Of _course_ he isn't. Of course he wouldn't be. It's Itachi, for the kami's sake, who has gone through so much that he's probably physically incapable of ever feeling that way, and where does _she_ get off thinking that her stupid attempts to give him one halfway decent night could ever fix anything?

And why is this making her so upset, anyway?

And finally, in response to her question, Itachi leans forward and kisses her. Hard.

That's a bit of an understatement, really. He had simply, prematurely and _completely_ without warning, captured her lips with his and simultaneously pulled her a little closer into his arms, his hands steadying her, at the small of her back. The movement is so sudden and harsh and overwhelming that it stuns her for a moment, but before Sakura even realizes what she is doing, she is moving slightly, bringing her fingers up to his hair and raking through it as she kisses him back with equal fervor. She doesn't know where this sudden heat has come from, but she is shifting against him a little, seeking deeper purchase and more physical contact; they are a little bit twisted up, literally, both of them unable to find a less awkward physical position to settle into while still keeping their lips locked together.

Itachi finally and a little roughly manages to pull her into his lap, eliciting the briefest squeak of surprise from Sakura, before the sound is cut off as they kiss again. She presses herself closer to him, deepening the kiss even further, and she actually feels Itachi's low murmur of approval as he lifts her more to his level. He is sitting comfortably, his back braced against the trunk of the willow, while her knees are pressing into the hard, thin soil at the base of the tree, the side and front of her body pressed completely against Itachi's chest, with her arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingernails lightly scraping against the back of his neck, as his thumbs draw abstract patterns on the small of her back. Each of their kisses seems to taste more intense and desperate than the next; like he is trying to swallow her whole and just drink her in, and she is attempting to do the same to him…with a little less success.

It isn't particularly relaxing or gentle, like the rest of their night has been, thus far. Their every movement and kiss is restless, a little bruising, and more than a little frustrated, but Sakura really isn't in the best state of mind to analyze things like that just now.

Itachi begins to trace a slow, steady path upward on her back, and Sakura shivers through their kiss as she feels his calloused fingers come into contact with the skin left bare by the halter. She thinks that she trusts him, though, and as if to distract her, he pulls away for a moment, and the pink-haired kunoichi blinks. Before she even has time to become confused in the least, though, Itachi slides the hand on her back to the very ends of her hair, tugging it backward very gently, and pressing a soft kiss to the sensitive skin behind her ear.

He is a little lost as to how and why he finds himself wanting her so very much. It is very nearly irrational, and it is not because Sakura looks nearly identical to Shisui – although, to be fair, they are nearly identical in spirit, and it is her personality that draws Itachi to Sakura most. For a split second, after Sakura had asked him…that, the question that had started all of this, his instinctive reaction was to think that _no,_ he was most definitely _not_ happy, because he is alive and not dead and that is not what he wants (wanted?) for himself.

And then, strangely enough, Itachi had realized that if he had _stayed_ dead, he would never have encountered Sakura. Never…fallen for her, in essence, and the knowledge of how much she has affected his life in the six months that she has been in it is almost mindblowing. His desire for her is strong enough that he had intentionally agreed to Madara's plan, and in that moment, Itachi remembers his thoughts of the morning after his conflict with Sakura. About thinking that if he couldn't have her, _keep her_, as his own – regardless of the measures that would have to be undertaken in that case – he would not take her at all.

It had taken two weeks for Itachi to realize that he will not betray her again. That he will do whatever it takes to eliminate Madara, and allow the Uzumaki to assume the position of Rokudaime Hokage, and – he will deal with the repercussions of those actions as they come.

It is bittersweet frustration, knowing that whatever he and Sakura can ever have is simply not meant to last.

That will not stop Itachi from taking advantage of every moment that he has left.

Sakura actually whimpers softly as Itachi sits up a little straighter, easing the two of them closer and continuing to kiss a slow path down the side of her neck. His teeth scrape against the skin there every so often, sending tangible shivers down her spine, and she can't help but gasp aloud, her fingernails burying themselves into the nape of his neck painfully, as he almost playfully nips at her delicate collarbone, his slender, long-boned fingers lightly brushing against the knot of fabric at the back of the base of her neck as he does so. She doesn't understand why, but the small, could-have-been innocent gesture makes her arch into his other hand, which is cupping her—

They both seem to pull apart, gasping raggedly, at the same instant, and when Itachi and Sakura finally gather themselves enough to meet each other's gazes, their foreheads resting against each other as they attempt to regain some semblance of composure, he sees his own thoughts echoed back at him through her eyes.

Sakura is the first to break the silence, tilting her head to the side in order to run her hands down the length of his chest again, while giving him a slow, languorous kiss. Her heart is pounding with mingled nervousness and uncertainty, and it feels so overfilled with emotion that it makes her ache all over as she slowly pulls away from Itachi. "Forget dinner," she whispers, so softly that she can barely hear herself over the racing of her own heart, while resting one hand over his own and brushing her lips against the line of his jaw, because she _does_ know what she wants to spend the rest of her night doing; she really does. "You should take us home."

Itachi's eyes darken just a little as he locks gazes with Sakura, not trusting his vocal cords to manage any coherent sort of response. In the end, he just nods tersely, before leaning down and slowly, gently slanting his mouth over hers.

With the next light breeze that stirs the leaves of the trees, the two of them vanish in a swirl of ash.

They are back in their room within the next moment. The carpet is still damp and the room is too cold and lit only by the single lamp that Itachi had forgotten to turn off.

_What are you doing?_

_Do you think this is going to make _anything_ right?_

Itachi ceases the slow, heated kisses he is currently trailing down her throat, and his voice is a little low and rough as he lifts one of his hands from her hips, before gently smoothes a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Are you all right?" he asks hoarsely.

_It's okay. It's going to be all right. Everything will fall into place._

Sakura gives him a tremulous smile, pressing a light kiss into the hollow of Itachi's throat. "Fine," she whispers back, trying to convince herself, because she mostly does love him, right? She loves almost all of him— "…Perfect."

* * *

_to be continued_

* * *

:D

I know I'll probably get questions about this, and to that, I'll only say – Itachi and Sakura kind of love each other. This chapter should make that clear. They're just a little (or, well, a lot) confused about how to deal with that, not to mention their other feelings for each other. Everything will be cleared up in the next chapter.

Thank you so much to everybody who commented on the previous chapter, and as always, feedback would be very much appreciated. :)


	15. When Life Gives You Lemons

_As always, thank you so much to everybody who was fantastic enough to review. :)_

_-_

_Chapter Fifteen: When Life Gives You Lemons_

_-_

The carpet is cold and wet beneath her bare feet.

The small room as a whole, in fact, is mostly cold and wet. Logic tells Sakura that, considering what she and Itachi are doing and what they are _about_ to do, it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to lead him the few feet necessary to reach the warm, dry bed shoved against the opposite wall (which should technically be the infinitely preferable option), but at the same time, the thought scares her more than it should.

Sakura tries to mask her completely irrational nervousness by stretching up a few inches, lightly curling her fingers around the collar of Itachi's dark red shirt, and tugging it aside in order to press a line of slow kisses along the sharp ridge of his collarbone; feeling the steady rhythm of his heart through the brief layers of clothing that separate them. However, the angling of her body is more than a little uncomfortable, between the placement of his hands on the small of her back as he lightly brushes his lips against the shell of her right ear, slowly working his way downward, and _her_ own awkward attempts to reciprocate in some way the attention that Itachi is giving her.

Regardless, she feels his soft, low murmur of approval, before his teeth nip her earlobe ever so slightly. The slight action is enough to make her forget how to kiss, for a moment, forcing Sakura to realize that she is still a little lost at just how surreal this feels – the last time that they had truly done this was that completely insane time he had kissed her out of nowhere before she had left for Konoha, and the reality of all of this has yet to sink in. Part of her is loudly insisting that they are going too fast and they definitely shouldn't take this large of a step forward so soon, but still, an equally-sized part of her has determined that she wants – no, _needs_ – to do this with him.

Her nerves are thoroughly set on edge, though; the sharp, unpleasant intensity of this feeling doing nothing to resolve itself, not even when Itachi uses his fingers' newfound purchase in her hair to guide her back to him for another long, searing kiss that actually leaves Sakura breathless. Despite her lingering, persistent trepidation about what they are doing, she cannot help but love the way he is finally allowing himself to touch her and kiss her like this, and the newfound freedom that _she_ has, to be able to stretch up on the tips of her toes and press herself against him and purr aloud as Itachi carefully traces the contours of her figure from the neck down, all while never allowing the burning intensity of their kisses to subside in the least. She loves the feeling of neither of them being in denial any longer, and not having to pretend that they haven't wanted to try this again since it had first happened. And, above all, she loves the feeling of being _wanted._

The intensity of this aspect of him – which she had noticed both when they had first kissed, as well as now – is almost unnerving, because he is so impassive and detached otherwise, that knowing that he is capable of such heated emotion very nearly doesn't seem right…but at the same time, it is flattering, knowing that _she _is the one that all of this incredible, repressed emotion is directed toward. That she is the one he wants. For months, Sakura has fully realized that Itachi is, indeed…human. Susceptible to all the same wants and needs and desires that she is – but really knowing that he, of all people, despite everything and for whatever reasons, cares about _her_ and _needs her_ enough to want to do this, is enough to make her world spin. This means that, to some extent at least, he feels for her just as strongly as she does for him – because even though she and Itachi have never had a heart-to-heart discussion about sex, Sakura cannot shake the feeling that he would never do this with somebody unless they really, truly meant something to him.

She has never had a relationship before, or anything even close to it. Aside from that one night with Naruto, Sakura has never experienced the feeling of caring for somebody, _loving_ somebody, and having them reciprocate those feelings in turn. And the knowledge of Itachi possibly doing so for her is enough to make her throat tighten and her chest constrict ever so slightly.

This part of her is begging, _pleading_ for her to just live in the moment, for once in her life. To not think or worry about what's going to happen tomorrow morning; about the long-lasting implications that this is going to have for the future of their partnership or relationship or whatever they are now…or will or will not be, after tonight. And Sakura stifles the other, more rational aspects of her mind, because it may be stupid – foolishly, utterly, completely _stupid, _like she never is—

But, as blatantly irrational a sentiment it is; for tonight, Sakura just wants to love him, as much as she possibly can, and let Itachi do the same for her in return.

For the first time since they had returned to their room, Itachi actually feels his partner relax fully into his arms, as he cautiously runs his hands down the exposed length of her bare arms, up again, and over onto the exposed skin of her shoulder blades, before walking Sakura backward a few paces, and gently easing her against the nearest wall, careful not to press his body too tightly against hers. He can feel Sakura fidgeting restlessly, shifting her arms to wrap tighter around his shoulders, tangling his hair, and Itachi finally breaks their kiss in order to pull away from her a mere fraction of an inch, so that the tips of their noses are just barely touching. Sakura looks most adorably confused at the sudden severance of contact, and he cannot help but simply drink her in with his darkened eyes, taking in every minute detail of this experience and painstakingly filing it away in his memory. Sakura's hair is tousled and disarrayed after being run through by his fingers so many times, and her lips are slightly swollen by this point, but the expression in her eyes is so softly, unwaveringly content and _trusting _as she looks up at him that it makes Itachi forget what he had been about to say…or even think, for that matter.

The sensation of finally allowing himself to begin to give in to his impulses toward her is overwhelming in every possible way; it is bittersweet and perversely frustrating and it is already filling Itachi with such a degree of raw, new, unadulterated emotion that it is almost enough to make him dizzy, a little. This feeling is almost unpleasant, but by this point, he has nothing to lose by giving in to it. He has no illusions about where this is going, and he just _wants her_ so much that it hurts.

"Are you sure?" Itachi finally asks, very quietly, because there will be no going back from this, and even though _he _is content with that, he wants to make sure that she is, as well. Up until just now, he has easily been able to feel how tense Sakura has been, and even now, he can still feel the racing of her pulse. His nerves are too worn, too set on edge to phrase the question any smoother, as he would have preferred to; the words are very gently spoken, though, even though his voice is hoarse and rubbed raw by barely repressed strain.

For the briefest of moments, Itachi sees a slight flicker in the expression in Sakura's eyes as she bites her lip slowly, almost unconsciously – although it could have just been a side effect of the mingling of the shadows of their side of the room, with the small, orange-tinted lamp next to the bed.

It is gone in the next second, though, replaced by a tiny, _incredibly_ sexy little smirk as Sakura grabs him by the ponytail, roughly pulling him forward and into what is easily the most heated kiss yet. Before Itachi even has time to react satisfactorily, save for pinning her hard to the wall by the hips and beginning to stroke slow circles into the thin, lacy material of her dress, the pink-haired kunoichi moves her fingers to rake through his hair, simultaneously taking advantage of their newfound and extreme proximity in order to stretch up and wrap one slender leg securely around his hips.

This move startles him; it does not feel unpleasant, though – quite the opposite, as a matter of fact – and tentatively, Itachi moves one hand from her waist in order to very slowly slide it up her skirt, wondering if that is what she wants. The sudden, unexpected feeling of his firm palms and calloused fingers against the silky, strawberry-lotioned skin of her bare left leg makes Sakura gasp, breaking the kiss in order to arch her neck back against the wall. To her irrational, intense displeasure, he stops at this, with his thumb resting on the _very_ sensitive skin of her upper, inner thigh, before almost teasingly trailing it back down; tracing narrow, abstract patterns as he does so, and she shivers so hard it sends a tremor through her entire body.

It had not been a move calculated to elicit any particular reaction out of her – rather, just acting on a fascinated impulse that he had rethought at the last minute on the grounds that perhaps it could be considered undesirable in some way. Itachi will not even attempt to pretend that _one_ sexual experience six years ago had given him any degree of particular expertise (or, well, any expertise whatsoever) in the field, but considering Sakura's definitely _positive_-sounding and hastily suppressed whimper as he finally releases her leg, uncurling it from around his body, his…experimentation hadn't seemed to be a complete failure.

"…Jerk," Sakura pants, hating her lack of coherence and ability to summon her usual capacity for higher-level vocabulary at the moment, as she bravely attempts to regain her balance against the wall, before very half-heartedly punching her amused-looking partner on the shoulder. Still, though, she is a little lightheaded with relief that their weird kind of chemistry as partners and kind-of friends seems to have carried over into…what they are doing now. They have a bit of a strange, awkward dynamic normally; caught between the usual constant and often sarcastic butting of heads that comes along with trying to coexist with both of their naturally dominant and drastically different personalities…and the occasional moments when it is only too clear that he cares about her, in his own socially retarded way, just as she does for him. "You aren't supposed to _do_ stuff like that!"

Itachi feels a surprisingly humorous smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, somewhat relieving the tension that has settled over them since all this had first started, at the park, and this new feeling is almost welcome. "Really?" he asks cryptically, the impassive tone of his voice proving a direct contradiction to his movements as he steps forward, taking Sakura firmly into his arms and pinning her against the wall again. Before she can protest or even attempt to extricate herself, the elder Uchiha lightly nips at the shell of her ear until she squeaks, turning her head in order to kiss him on the cheek as best as she can. This interaction is surprisingly affectionate, coming from somebody like him, and it makes her blush as if it were her first time; her first kiss.

His voice breaks her out of the brief reverie – it is even more soft and silky and much lower than normal, actually _warm_ enough to send fissures of heat exploding right up her spine and into her chest, making Sakura arch against him almost unconsciously, as he holds her even closer, brushing the back of his right hand down the curve of her breast. "I apologize, then – but, in that case, does that mean you require compensation, _princess_?" Itachi inquires, lowering his head a little further and practically nuzzling against her ear.

At first, Sakura is too distracted by the fact that, for the very first time, Itachi is actually outright _flirting_ with her…not to mention using that almost-forgotten nickname that Ryo and Takashi had given her so many months ago, in order to do so, and – hell, it's crazy how something so obnoxious could turn so…_hot_, under this context – to even think of a proper reply. And Itachi doesn't wait for one, instead smirking at her once more, before pulling off his shirt in one smooth motion, and flinging it over on the nearby desk.

Sakura tries to look unimpressed. She really does – and she puts up a good pretense of it, as well.

This façade lasts for a grand total of seven seconds, before Sakura actually pounces on him.

She can't think about any more complex or better or mature term to describe it…because for once, something between them isn't necessarily complex in the least. In that second, it just boils down to pure chemistry; pure, raw attraction, as they slowly make their way toward the bed, making out like a pair of overenthusiastic, hormonal teenagers. Sakura honestly isn't quite sure as to how it works, but the next thing that she fully realizes, Itachi is slowly easing her back against the pillows that one of them had settled against the headboard this morning. Her arms are still wrapped around his neck, and one of his hands is gently resting on her back, before he moves both of _his _arms to wrap around her waist, as he settles himself close, next to her. The mood between them seems to shift as easily as they had changed locale, and they are kissing a lot harder, slower, and deeper now; even more so than they had done at the park; fervently exploring and tasting each other and trying to twist even closer to one another. It must be an instinctive response from his fire-based chakra type, but Itachi suddenly feels incredibly warm – or maybe she is just feeling incredibly sensitive to the play of his leanly defined muscles against her hands. Sakura has never felt quite like this before. She's been kissed by four different males, at this point, including Sasuke, her first love – but even that incident had not managed to arouse such a degree of blinding, overwhelming emotion.

Part of her distantly observes that it is dangerous, to feel so much for somebody like Itachi, but at this point, she doesn't think that she can possibly _stop_ doing so. And it is hardly as if she hasn't tried.

Almost as if sensing her thoughts, Itachi abruptly pulls away again. She is still in his arms, half in his lap, with her head tucked under his chin, and Sakura kisses his throat once before looking back up at him inquisitively. The expression in his eyes is shadowed and unreadable as he meets her gaze evenly, and she scowls a little, her body language letting him know in no uncertain terms that she wants to know what he is thinking.

Surprisingly, Itachi obliges, and Sakura cannot help but shiver as he first trails his fingers, almost uncertainly, across her mostly-exposed collarbone and bare shoulders – as if she is a map that he wants to learn. "I have not…engaged in any remotely similar activities for six years," he murmurs stiffly, and she can see how the words make his shoulders tense – at a memory, perhaps? "…I apologize in advance if—"

As strange as a response it may be, Sakura actually smiles a little, relaxing somewhat, before sliding off the bed and standing directly in front of him. This time, his confusion is evident, and she gently and a little awkwardly takes his long-boned hands in hers and settles them on her waist, so that the tops of his thumbs just barely brush the undersides of her breasts. Again, Itachi looks startled by the proximity as he tilts his head to the side a fraction of an inch. The novelty of even this extraordinarily subtle expression, on him, nearly takes her breath away, and Sakura smoothes a lock of hair behind her ear, feeling her heart flutter ever so slightly as she reaches toward her waist as well.

Her fingers tremble a little as she literally unwraps the bow that she had tied there, earlier, and even though Sakura doesn't dare looking up at him, she can feel Itachi's eyes heatedly, intently tracing the requisite movements. "It's all right," she responds at last, softly reaching up and twining it around his the back of his neck in a gesture that is much braver than she feels. "It isn't something that you can forget, after all."

Her words are so quiet that she can barely hear them over the pounding of her heart, and Sakura drops the ends of the ribbon, then, leaving her absolutely gorgeous, long-haired, gray-eyed partner looking somewhat ridiculous with a long pink ribbon wrapped around his neck, both ends hanging on opposite sides of his chest. Although, to be fair, his appearance and even his dignity are the last things on Itachi's mind, as he silently watches Sakura reach up and around to the knot of fabric at the back of her neck.

She closes her eyes for the briefest of moments; takes a deep breath, before swiftly undoing the knot, and pulling the two straps of her halter free and down. All the way down.

The air is too cold, on all of that suddenly-bare skin, and too late, Sakura realizes that she had forgotten to open her eyes.

She does. Slowly and tentatively, fighting the urge to cross her arms over her chest, fixing her gaze squarely on the damp carpet beneath her. And her dress, discarded on the floor. And, even though she is a brave kunoichi, Sakura just remains in a state of complete _freeze_, until she feels the almost shockingly new sensation of Itachi's right hand brushing against the bare curve of her waist, very gently holding her in place.

It is soon followed by two of his fingers lightly pressing underneath her chin, softly tilting her wide-eyed gaze up to his. The expression in his eyes is something unreadable, still, but so much softer than usual as he just takes her in, from head to toe and back again. "You're right," Itachi comments quietly, before gently pulling her closer and tentatively capturing her lips with his once again, and Sakura finally allows her eyes to slip closed in sheer contentment-fulfillment-_almost_-happiness, as she reaches over and wraps her arms around his neck once again, sliding fully into his lap as she does so.

-

_The Next Morning_

-

Sakura wakes up to the sound of thunder. It is very distant; just barely on the horizon, if she had to make an approximation, but it must be the harbinger of a much larger storm, if it is having this large of an effect already. Each low fissure of sound shakes the bed slightly, knocking the headboard back against the wall, and even while half-asleep, Sakura bites her lip in distress, subconsciously curling herself even closer to her partner and burying her head firmly into the crook of his shoulder. And for a moment after doing so, she is incredibly confused; because this feels so different from any times that she has done so before—

The memories take about a minute to reassert, in her thoroughly sleep-disoriented mind, and even then, they aren't even memories yet; just flashes of sensations so tangible that Sakura wonders if they could have been particularly vivid dreams. The rough, calloused feel of Itachi's palms as he gently cupped her breasts, making her arch into him and bite her lip to stifle a moan; the sensation of every one of their kisses, closer and hotter and harder than the last; the way the heated skin and tautly drawn muscles of his back had felt underneath her fingernails…

Sakura freezes; shifts experimentally.

Her skin? Bare. _Completely_ bare. The sheets? Chilly against them, save from the warmth emanating from the leanly muscular form that is currently holding her close against him. They are both lying on their sides; their legs are tangled together, her arms wrapped around his shoulders and face turned against his neck, and his having settled around the slender curve of her waist, with his chin resting right on top of her head.

So it hadn't been a dream. Not in the least.

Sakura lies there, her body completely stiffening, as the reality of what had happened last night slowly sinks in. When she had first woken up, she had been tired. She remembers feeling tired. Her body is telling her that she is _still _tired. But she is suddenly feeling somewhat nauseous at the same time, her skin getting more than a little clammy. Waking up, she had been comfortable, cuddled against Itachi like that – but now, she just feels the need to get away. Far away. Maybe hide in the bathroom or something.

_Don't regret it,_ Sakura reminds herself sharply, screwing her eyes shut, against the vaguely purplish-gray almost-sunlight that is streaming in through the open curtains. If it were not for the way that Itachi is holding her, she would curl up into a tiny little ball and hold herself, breathing deeply and reminding herself not to have some kind of panic attack. This intense, extreme state of emotional turmoil had happened during the morning after her first time with Naruto, as well, and it takes a conscious effort for Sakura to calm her breathing, literally forcing herself not to worry about what exactly going to happen between her and Itachi after…last night.

In all honesty, though, it had been – amazing. Amazing enough that she shouldn't even possess the mental capacity to be freaking out about and forcing herself not to regret it now. She should just be basking in that special, content and happy afterglow that is only brought on by utterly amazing, emotionally intense sex…or whatever the hell it was that the characters in Ino's favorite romance novels had always been going on about. At the same time, though, Sakura's honest assessment of the events of last night weren't because Itachi had turned out to be some sort of ridiculous, mysteriously inexplicable and utterly fantastic romance novel-esque sex god, or whatever—

The pink-haired kunoichi has to bite her lip to keep from smiling, or worse, laughing at the completely outlandish mental image. The lighthearted moment does its part to relieve the sudden, knotting tension in her shoulders, making her relax fractionally into Itachi's arms. Either way, it hadn't been like…that. It had taken a long while for both of them to even get over the awkwardness of giving each other even the most tentative of touches. To make matters worse, at one point, she had almost accidentally broken his collarbone during a particularly heated moment after the two of them had finally, _finally_ managed a decent attempt at second base, and in turn, Itachi had mistakenly elbowed her in the ribs during a separate…passionate incident.

Sakura's smile fades a little as she turns her head against the pillow, feeling the cool material against her suddenly flushed cheek. Despite their initial, almost uncomfortable and thoroughly nerve-wracking attempts at getting accustomed to this new level of intimacy, she had felt so very _close_ to him last night; closer than she's ever felt to anybody else, and that scares her beyond all belief. During – well, during the actual _thing, _when she had actually forgotten how to kiss him when he tried, instead just nuzzling against his cheek a little desperately, and Itachi had slowly combed his fingers through her hair and tilted her neck back and slowly, gently, taught her how to, all over again – she had felt so overwhelmed with emotion that she had nearly cried.

It is frightening and horrifying and terrifying all wrapped up in one, how close Sakura had been to telling Itachi that she loved him.

Sex itself…isn't so bad. It is still something that she is getting used to, anyway. It is only the emotional repercussions and how vulnerable and stripped bare (literally as well as figuratively) that she feels during and afterward that scares her most.

Sakura closes her eyes, unconsciously pressing herself a little closer to her personal source of very welcome warmth. Despite her best efforts, she cannot help but start seriously thinking again; biting her lip in worry. Maybe she and Itachi should have…talked about it, beforehand. Because she truly doesn't know whether last night had been a one-time thing – or whether it was supposed to be the first step into a real relationship, of sorts. Or, even if it now means that she and Itachi have now officially been elevated to _friends-with-benefits_ status.

The thought makes her throat tighten a little, for reasons that Sakura doesn't want to think about. She doesn't just want to be his stress relief. She doesn't want to be the girl that he screws with when he needs it just because they have a general understanding of each other and she is relatively attractive and _there._

Last night, it had felt so good, to have Itachi pull her close, afterward, and hold her gently and securely against his chest and stroke her hair after he had thought she had fallen asleep, and she wants _that. _She wants him to…love her. She wants more nights where they can go out together and not talk or even think about the shinobi world; to use genjutsu to sneak into movies, and walk around with his arm around her waist, or their fingers intertwined together. She wants to spend hours talking about life and _everything_ with him, before falling asleep curled securely into his arms. She wants to do all the things that real couples are supposed to do. She wants to fall in love with him in a way that won't hurt nearly as much as it is right now.

She wants a relationship with Itachi. A _real_ relationship, beyond just being shinobi, partners, and missing-nin.

Her chest constricts so much that it is almost painful, and Sakura carefully extricates one of her arms from its place around Itachi's shoulder, before wiping the back of her hand against her eyes a little bitterly, hating herself for needing to do that. It's so unrealistic that she could vomit with disgust. They cannot even pretend to lead normal lives like that – they are both considered exiles, and Itachi is an S-class criminal and Akatsuki member who has been through more traumas in twenty-one years than most people could imagine in their wildest dreams. He has an inordinately large amount of personal demons to confront, and he wouldn't have any time for…her, let alone even possessing the emotional capacity to give her what she wants and needs.

Several weeks ago, on the day that Itachi had originally left to return to Rain for the Akatsuki meeting, Sakura remembers coming to the conclusion that they were too different; from two separate worlds, essentially. That they were wrong for each other in every possible way. And, kami – she just has to convince herself that all of this between them just wasn't…meant to be. In about two years, Naruto will be ready to take back Konoha, and what the hell is she supposed to do, then?

She could never take Itachi _with _her. Considering his history with Konoha, she doubts he would even want to come, anyway. And where would that leave them?

Sakura's stomach is hurting, now, leaving her feeling even more nauseous and generally physically sickened, and she doesn't know how long she just lies there, trying her best to calm her breathing and clear her mind and not think about anything besides the distant crashes of thunder. She keeps her eyes closed, effortlessly feigning sleep as only a medic-nin can, because she is really kind of dreading the moment when Itachi wakes up as well—

In all honesty, despite their extremely close proximity, Sakura is too wrapped up in her own miserable thoughts to realize when he first stirs. It is only a few minutes later, when Itachi readjusts the positioning of his hand on her bare back, that she remembers to keep her eyes closed, her expression calm, and her breathing carefully, uniformly deep and even.

Even when he gently traces the curve of her body, from her neck to her hip, with a touch so light and gentle it feels as if she could have dreamed it. Sakura can practically sense the weight of his gaze lingering on her, and stifling the temptation to crack an eye open and try and see exactly how he is looking at her is a million times harder than she could have ever believed. Absentmindedly, she wonders if Itachi's expression has gone back to its usual detached, impassive coolness, or if it is still a little softer than usual, as it had been last night.

Still, Sakura doesn't expect the surprisingly tender sensation of his tucking a few disarrayed strands of hair behind her ear, though, before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, and it takes a conscious effort to keep herself from reacting in any way.

Itachi cautiously untangles himself from her then, careful not to disturb her, and Sakura can feel how he adjusts the blankets around her, trying to keep her warm. Remaining so motionless like this; like a helpless little doll, is taking a toll on her restless, frustrated psyche, although the casual, accidental touches of his hands against her bare skin as he makes sure that the blankets are sufficiently positioned is bringing back all kinds of very distracting memories.

Sakura finally resorts to burying her face into the nearest blanket and softly inhaling and exhaling in order to calm herself. It smells like a mixture of cheap fabric softener and Itachi's subtly masculine scent of pine and spearmint.

She does this until the soft rustle of clothing finally ceases, and the door opens and shuts, with a definitive _click_.

It is probably only about nine in the morning, and she is already too emotionally drained to even contemplate getting out of bed and showering and getting ready for the day. At this point, Sakura would infinitely prefer to just lie in bed and perhaps eat some strawberry pocky for comfort, while reading the book that she bought two towns back and hasn't found time to peruse yet. She lapses in and out of a troubled half-sleep for a little while, unsure of why she suddenly feels so very…fatigued, enough so that when the door finally opens and shuts again, the pink-haired kunoichi barely even stirs, or notices the disturbance. Or the sensation of the bed sinking down a few inches, as well as an almost overwhelmingly sweet, cinnamon-ish scent pervading the small room and mingling somewhat with the misty, earthy smell that is unique to Lightning before a particularly violent summer monsoon storm.

After Itachi clears his throat very softly, Sakura sits bolt upright, just barely remembering to pull the covers up to her chest as she does so. There are a few awkward moments as she and Itachi lock eyes for the first time since last night, and to her discomfiture, Sakura looks away almost immediately, hastily redirecting her gaze to his lap. This isn't _just_ because of how uncomfortable she suddenly finds looking at him is – because it looks like a small explosion has taken place on the porcelain, aloe-green plate that he is holding. An explosion that seems to center around two syrup-drowned cinnamon waffles in the center, along with a small mountain of juice-oozing strawberries and blueberries on the side.

Sakura blinks and almost lets go of her blanket.

"I was unsure of how you liked them," Itachi says stiffly, depositing them at her side.

Sakura blinks, again, before tentatively pulling the plate into her lap. "I…oh…thanks?"

Itachi only inclines his head a tiny bit, watching her with a kind of disturbing intensity that only becomes somewhat appeased when Sakura warily immerses her fork into the pool of maple syrup and finds herself lucky enough to pull out a scrap of waffle along with it, before taking a tentative bite of the overly-saccharine concoction. However, the strawberry that had been stuck on the waffle is too big and far too sour, despite the sugary syrup that it had been bathed in, although the pink-haired kunoichi forces herself to chew it valiantly.

_Don't spit it out, don't spit it out (or accidentally snort syrup through your nose); don't make him think that he just made a huge mistake by spending his twenty-first birthday having sex with a stupid teenager who can barely eat breakfast without making an ass out of herself—_

Sakura begins to choke. Violently.

For a brief moment, Itachi almost, _almost_ panics. But then rational sense and logic takes over, and he quickly pulls Sakura into the circle of his arms, slowly and calmingly rubbing his hands over her upper back. He is careful not to dislodge the blanket as Sakura rests her forehead on his shoulder for the briefest moment, before pulling back, as if burned, and she immediately glances away, staring at the opposite wall. "I'm fine," she manages, swallowing over the syrupy and sour lump in her throat.

Itachi honestly had not thought it was possible to feel any worse about this situation, but now – well, what kind of individual almost accidentally kills their lover over an attempt to give them a decent breakfast? Too late, though, the elder Uchiha realizes that his hand is still very unnecessarily on her bare back, and he pulls it away hastily. The last thing he needs is for Sakura to think that he is…propositioning…her, this early in the morning.

"So," Sakura mumbles, at last, vaguely aware that she is blushing very hotly. She is at a complete loss as to what to say, but they have been sitting in complete silence for a long time. After directing a cautious look over at him, it becomes obvious that Itachi still looks quite tousled as a result of last night – his hair is far less pristine than usual, the expression in his eyes is quite obviously distracted, and he keeps wincing a little, where his back is touching the headboard. She doesn't even want to think about what a screwed up picture that they would make.

"…Do you want some of my waffle?" Sakura inquires, studiously looking into the depths of the mountain of blueberries, which she had thoroughly squished into a sad-looking puddle. It is hardly the smoothest and most elegant conversational opening line that she has ever utilized, but _damn it_, picking effortless conversation starters gets a lot harder when one involved party had to spent the majority of the past night biting her lip in order to keep herself from screaming the other person's name, and both of them know it—

"No," Itachi replies, too quickly. "I do not—"

"Yeah," Sakura interrupts, just as hastily. "Sorry. I forgot that you don't do waffles."

As soon as this incriminating sentence works its way free of her traitorous vocal cords, Sakura winces visibly.

"…Right," Itachi murmurs, his degree of subtle mortification inching higher by the moment. Now just as lost as to what to say as his…partner/lover _thing_, he slides off the bed, quietly slinking off into one of the corners of the room.

Sakura watches him go out of the corner of her eye, before blinking a few times and determinedly redirecting her gaze to her sad-looking reflection in the leftover syrup.

And then the shirt lands squarely beside her.

Startled, Sakura settles the empty plate on the bedside table, before warily reaching over and picking up the item of clothing thus catapulted, holding it by the shoulders. It is a simple black t-shirt, one that would obviously be too long and loose for her – and one that, incidentally enough, would happen to fit Itachi perfectly.

She looks over at him sharply, curling the shirt into a small ball of fabric and holding it to her chest, and Itachi is careful to keep his expression carefully impassive as he glances back at her. "Our account is nearly depleted," he says evenly. "We should—"

"Migrate," Sakura completes a little dully, the kunoichi in her taking over, as it always does. "We're getting closer to the coast, anyway, and I remember Kakashi-sensei telling me crime rates are always higher there, so we'll have more hunting jobs to take. I guess that I'll be ready in about an hour and a half or so."

Itachi only nods, before slipping quietly into the bathroom. He closes the door behind him, leaning on it and closing his eyes, already exhausted.

Kami. Sakura – the girl that he wants, desires; could possibly love – is sitting in their bed, wrapped in nothing but a blanket, after having been _his_ for the entire past night, and he had—

Screwed it up. Completely. So completely that the enormity and tension of the situation are overwhelming him enough to make finding a more sophisticated and characteristic synonym for the term impossible.

This is just so totally, dizzyingly new to him. Itachi may be several different kinds of prodigy, but this is likely the area that he is the most utterly _lost_ in. One hour after he and Shisui had taken this particular step in their relationship, he had held her close, and she had died in his arms – and since then, he has never taken the care to pursue any academic or literary studies of the emotional aftereffects and implications of sex.

Perhaps treating Sakura as if none of this had ever happened would be preferable. Itachi has no idea as to what is going on in her mind at the moment, and the idea of striking up a casual conversation about it as they make their way to the coast is downright laughable. He does not know what last night meant to her, and in all honesty, he does not fully understand what it meant to him, either. For the first time in more years than Itachi cares to remember, the emotion that he had felt last night was so raw and completely overwhelming that, if he were forced to describe it in words, he would not know where to begin.

Already nursing a tension headache brought on by the sudden stress that the day already has to offer, Itachi showers briefly, washing the last vestiges of strawberry-Sakura scent off him, and trying not to over-analyze the situation even further. The skin all over his back stings fiercely upon contact with the hot water, though, and there is a persistent ache in his lower back, beneath his hips, as well. Even without looking in the mirror, Itachi can easily deduce that the stinging must have been from where Sakura had first raked her fingernails against his skin, and the ache in his lower back would likely have been perpetuated when she had wrapped her legs around him like that…

The memories, simultaneously, send a pleasurable shiver down his spine and set his nerves on edge in a way that is the very antithesis of pleasing. When he finally emerges from the bathroom, releasing a veritable wall of pine-scented steam from the hot water with him and somewhat irritably tugging his simple black comb through his damp hair, Itachi actually stops in his path and blinks – and he makes no move to resist as Sakura presses the cup of steaming blueberry tea into his hands. She is wearing his shirt; the sleeves drape loosely to her elbows, and the hem falls somewhere a little below her mid-thigh. The stark, raven-black material is a vivid contrast to her tangled hair and bright eyes, and Itachi isn't sure why, but seeing her like this is making him want to abandon the tea (a novel concept indeed) and simply pull her back into bed with him, regardless of the emotional implications of such an action.

…This, of course, would be a less than logical act to perform, and Itachi usually tries his best to avoid doing illogical things. Last night had damn near been a first, and _that_ had certainly worked out well for both of them. So he only thanks Sakura, as quietly and noncommittally as ever, and pretends that her face does not fall a little as she slips past him, shutting the door firmly behind her as she does so.

-

The next couple of weeks are difficult for both of them; it is like learning how to exist together all over again, in the wake of an event that neither Itachi nor Sakura know how to deal with. They never talk about it or even acknowledge that it had happened in any way, a fact that quietly, subtly wears on Sakura a little bit more every day.

Every night, without fail, they fall asleep on opposite sides of the bed, and the next morning, they wake up curled together, Sakura resting against him in some way, and Itachi always having thrown a somewhat protective arm around her during the course of the night.

At least for her part, during that week, it becomes painfully obvious that Itachi really hadn't intended their one night together to really signify the start of anything…deeper. He treats her the same as he always has, and the two of them go back to studiously avoiding any form of physical contact – but Itachi is still is unfailingly polite, detached and impassive, still manages to convey a thousand words and meanings with one fractional raise of an eyebrow, or the tiniest of smirks, and he continues to look out for her in his own subtle way. And Sakura doesn't know what she had expected would change, between them, but she would have liked _something_ to. It is just so frustrating. She _knows_ that Itachi cares for her as more than just some convenient thing to use when he needs it, but she wishes that he could show her that, as well. She absolutely hates admitting it, but sometimes, at the end of a day hunting down and killing other human beings for money; stopping their hearts and boiling their blood within their bodies, she craves some tender contact. A kiss on the cheek or the forehead, or the simple luxury of being held, or holding hands – just something, anything, to remind her that she is a living, breathing girl, and not just a finely honed killing machine whose only purpose in life is to take that of others.

It is driving her to distraction; this Pandora's box that she and Itachi had opened on the night of June eighth. Before, Sakura had never suspected that he was even capable of anything resembling affection, but so many of their interactions that night had been so surprisingly gentle that they had left her lost for words. Pride keeps her from seeking any sort of his attention, as well. Before, there were times that she wouldn't have thought twice about resting her head on his shoulder until he simply wrapped an arm around her in return, but damn it, Sakura doesn't want Itachi to think that she needs anything from him, just because—

It was just that – she wanted what had happened between them to be so much _more_ than a one-night thing. Sakura smiles a little bitterly, sitting on her window seat and watching the wind stir the cold, gray waves; the glass is chilly against her forehead as she leans against it. There are seagulls being literally thrown around by the breeze, and for a brief moment, she irrationally remembers her mother – who only lived four months after seeing her only daughter make chunin rank.

Her mother, the ANBU Cat. The loyal Konoha kunoichi who had dated her first boyfriend for four years before marrying him, as soon as they were old enough – Satoshi, Sakura's father; her mother's genin teammate and the captain of her ANBU squad.

What would her mother say, if she could see her beloved daughter now? Sixteen years old, a missing-nin and a traitor to Konoha, aimlessly wandering the world and planning one assassination attempt and one political coup, with two pretty much amazing-at-the-moment-but-crash-and-burn-afterward one-night-stands already solely making up her repertoire of romantic experience.

Sakura closes her eyes, resting her head against the wall and wrapping her arms around herself. She feels sick; intensely, completely fatigued and exhausted to the bone almost all the time, now, no matter how much sleep she gets – likely as a result of the immense emotional strain that the past few weeks have been on her.

_When life gives you lemons, make lemonade_? Inner Sakura suggests weakly.

Sakura tries to think about it for a little while; she really does.

There is no lemonade.

-

_One Week Later_

-

The twilight forest is as silent as the grave; the only thing that even Itachi's extraordinary acute senses can pick up is the soft, eerie howling of the wind through the branches of the trees. It is colder than usual today, the air smelling sharply of the salty bite of the nearby ocean. There are tiny grains of sand mingling with the dirt beneath his feet as well, and he can just barely make out the thick, dark blue line of the sea through the limited spaces between the dense, too-green trees.

A sharp, loud crunch suddenly breaks the cold silence, and before Sakura can even blink, Itachi has spun around, a kunai in hand.

…Only to find himself nose-to-nose with his partner, who freezes on principle, and less than a moment's assessment leads him to believe that it had _not_ been the town of Akita's Escaped Convict Number 54 who had caused the disturbance. Rather, Sakura, who is holding a slight wooden stick speared with several chunks of raw, red-chili pepper salted green mangos, and giving him a very nonplussed look.

"If you _wanted_ some, you could have just asked politely," the pink-haired kunoichi offers, once she has finished thoroughly chewing and swallowing, her tone dripping sarcasm. Without waiting for a reply, she places one small hand on his chest, lightly pushes him out of her way, and continues to walk ahead on the small path, visibly extending her chakra in order to detect any further presences, and Itachi cannot help but narrow his eyes at her back. "Do you really think that now is the most appropriate time for such things?" he asks coolly.

Sakura spares a moment to throw him a disinterested glance over her shoulder. "Seeing as the vendor back on the beach was practically giving these sticks away, the target is nowhere in this vicinity, and I'll be done in another five minutes or so – yes, I do."

The strong, acrid scent of the raw, salted and chili-sprinkled mango catches and carries in the breeze, and Itachi gives it a wary look; the smell most definitely stands out in this area, and would prove to be an early warning system for any fugitives. "Interesting choice," he replies sardonically.

Ignoring the tone, Sakura continues walking; most of her attention devoted to chakra-scanning the area as she does so. The forest is empty, although there is one foreign chakra signature that could possibly prove to be a match for their target lingering on the far side of the beach; maybe attempting to catch some fish fresh from the ocean, seeing as he can't exactly stroll into any of the fish markets in town—

"Yeah, well," she returns absentmindedly, thoughts occupied elsewhere as she turns east, following the path that her chakra is weaving for her. "I've really been craving it for the past few weeks or so…"

_Craving_?

At once, the interesting word choice brings back a long-forgotten memory – of being five years old, standing in the kitchen and awkwardly mixing sticky rice, soy sauce, and liberal amounts of peanut butter into a small porcelain bowl for his mother. Itachi remembers being dissatisfied with the strange consistency of the odd concoction as he gingerly cradled the bowl in his hands and walked it over to the kitchen table, but Mikoto had smoothed his hair away from his forehead and kissed the top of his head affectionately, nevertheless.

"_Thank you so much, Itachi-kun_," she had whispered, resting one hand on her swollen, six-month pregnant stomach, and giving him her soft, gentle smile. _"I hope that your little brother turns out to be just as sweet as you are._"

Itachi blinks once, his shell of icy composure cracking a little as he remembers the very first time he had walked into the kitchen to find his mother trying to satisfy her strange culinary cravings. She hadn't even _looked_ remotely pregnant then; still as petite and straight and slim as ever, and if he remembers correctly, his parents had only found out and then told him about it around two months later. And, a little desperately and feeling as though something cold and icy has crawled up into his ribcage and died there, Itachi thinks back to the night of June eighth. He and Sakura had not utilized any sort of…contraceptive methods – as a matter of fact, he is nearly sure that that had been the _last_ thing on his mind, which means…that it could—

And then Itachi trips over the exposed tree root.

In all honesty, he thinks that he actually loses consciousness for the most fleeting of moments, because the next thing Itachi is fully aware of is Sakura's arm around his waist, effortlessly steadying and keeping him from falling. "What the hell?" the pink-haired kunoichi snaps, letting go and glaring at him, and Itachi tries his best to recall whether his sweet, even-tempered mother had ever been irritable during the early stages of her pregnancy, even as he straightens up and meets her gaze as evenly as he possibly can.

For reasons that Sakura doubts that she will ever be able to understand, Itachi's almost desperate-looking gaze sweeps from her face to her stick of half-eaten raw mangoes several times. She raises an eyebrow at him skeptically, and for once, Itachi's perpetual state of complete coherence and articulation seems to have deserted him. He looks at the mangoes and then at her one more time, before firmly redirecting his gaze to the sand-spattered forest floor.

"Are you—"

The words are hoarser than usual and the sentence dies midway, and Sakura turns back, facing him impatiently. "What?"

Itachi's dark charcoal-gray gaze visibly flickers between her face and the mango stick once again.

"Cravings," he manages at last, silently more than a little shocked at the way his voice has managed to regain its customary, detached quality, as he and Sakura simply stare at each other. The twilight forest seems too large, though, and for the first time in his life, Itachi feels small and insignificant amongst it; like he is losing control of the world around him and his perceptions of it, and he hates it. "Do you think that you might be—" And he stops again, visibly swallowing over the word.

The wind howls through the forest, bringing another gust of sharply salty air with it, although at the moment, hunting the escaped convict is literally the last thing on Sakura's mind as she wraps both arms around herself instinctively, taking a step backwards.

"No," she replies, her tone wavering once, because even the _thought_ is scary enough to make the breath catch in her throat. "I mean – it's not possible."

He fixes his gaze upon the muted orange and purples of the sunset, silently willing things to work out. "How so?" Itachi asks, managing to raise an eyebrow skeptically, even now. "We did not…"

Sakura forces herself to wave a hand nonchalantly, turning away from him. Several times, she has wished that they could have talked about what had happened between them, but not necessarily under _this_ context. "I had it under control."

The expression that is, for once, clearly visible in Itachi's eyes makes it clear that this will be the one instance where he is less than satisfied with a vague, noncommittal reply, and he tells her so in no uncertain terms.

A little taken by surprise at his almost uncharacteristic assertiveness, Sakura meets his gaze anyway, crossing her arms over her chest. "Eleven months ago, when I left Konoha, I decided that I needed to make being a missing-nin as easy for myself as possible," she says bluntly, forcing her tone to remain as professionally clinical as possible. "Menstruation didn't really fit into that plan, and Tsunade-shishou had taught me how to stop it…before."

Itachi blinks once, looking somewhat shell-shocked and obviously torn between the instinctive masculine reaction of mumbling '_too much information_' and then avoiding her for the next few hours on principle, or the option of pressing for more details.

For her part, Sakura simply turns and walks away, and they make their way through the forest and out onto the miles of deserted beach in silence. The sands are a dull tan color, contrasting with the vivid coloring in the sky caused by the slowly setting sun, and the deep, multifaceted blue of the ocean. Normally, the mere sight and sound of the waves breaking on the sand would fill her with this inexpressible need to throw off her boots and run headlong into the water, but right now, her heart just feels too heavy to even think about it.

Itachi is the one to break the silence that has settled between them, surprisingly enough. "So there is absolutely no chance that you could be—"

His words are quiet, and Sakura cuts him off with one shake of her head. "No." The wind whips her hair into a tangled mess and she smoothes it down with an impatient hand that shakes slightly, nevertheless. Even though she knows that it's technically impossible, the prospect of being a pregnant teenage kunoichi – while the shinobi world has been overwhelmed by such intense, violent political warfare, no less – is disturbing and downright frightening enough to make her want to check up on the technique and give herself a brief physical exam once they find some sort of inn to stay at for the night.

"…And what if I were?"

The words come out a lot sharper than she had intended them to – hell, she hadn't even _meant_ to say that aloud, anyway, and Itachi just looks at her, drawing his Akatsuki cloak a little closer around himself, and the expression in his eyes is something a little softer than usual, completely unreadable – and, even though it isn't hostile in the least, it makes Sakura feel as stupid as a fungus-ridden, brain-dead goldfish for even _asking. _"I would ask you to marry me," he says, his voice barely audible over the rush of the wind as he looks out toward the ocean. This kind of raw honesty is unprecedented, from him, but Itachi can truly say nothing else in response to her question – and he has nothing to lose from it, in any case. "We would find a decent, peaceful place to settle down until the war ceases, and I would likely take a variety of hunting jobs in the area in order to support the three of us…in addition, I am sure that we could learn how to properly care for and raise a child."

Well, _that_ had backfired miserably. Sakura couldn't have been more stunned if the blank stretch of sand in front of her had suddenly conglomerated into a giant Godzilla-esque monster and sucker punched her in the stomach. For too many long moments, she is just totally lost for words, although Itachi looks just as detached and removed from the situation as ever. As if he hadn't just effectively proposed to her, in some kind of backward and twisted metaphorical-what-if-scenario kind of way. And then she can't help but thinking about what it would be like – but minus the whole being-a-teenage-mother thing—

There is an amount of emotional confusion and complications that shouldn't be exceeded. There is a line that shouldn't be crossed.

Sakura has a feeling that Itachi's words have just sent her spinning _way_ over the line; enough so that she has no choice but to fall back on her ultimate coping mechanism: denial. The conversation _never_ happened. And, if she had an ounce of common sense left in her head, she would try her best to pretend that having sex with him had never happened, either.

-

They find the convict frying fish over a massive bonfire on the beach. Itachi tosses a few senbon at him from a distance of just about thirty meters, and they all find their exact marks, on various immobilizing pressure points. It is situations like this that enable Sakura to never forget just how dangerous and exceptional a shinobi he is, and that knowledge never fails to send a slight shiver of apprehension down her spine. She knows that _she_ is unconditionally safe with him, but the same cannot be said for the rest of her loved ones.

It starts pouring freezing rain the moment that they make their way out of the Akita law enforcement office, twenty minutes later, and Sakura closes her eyes in sheer frustration; they have a fifty-mile walk to the next town, because the accommodations in _this_ one are apparently all filled up. On top of that, the mango slices had only temporarily appeased her craving—_want_, she hastily amends, for more food – and the dirt roads are impossibly muddy and treacherous to walk on during weather like this. Not to mention that she is already wet and freezing cold; her sleeveless vest and short skirt and shorts are best suited to Lightning's normal daytime summer weather, but not so much for the monsoon storms that usually stroke after nightfall.

Sakura crosses her arms over her chest, narrowly managing to avoid stepping into a particularly vile mud puddle, when she suddenly finds herself being pulled off the beaten path by her partner. His grip is damp from the rain but firm, refusing to let go until they have found sufficient cover under a tree, and Sakura looks up at him incredulously, all too aware that they haven't exchanged more than five consecutive words since that incident on the beach.

Seemingly ignoring her expression, Itachi quickly pulls off his Akatsuki cloak; he wears only his customary black pants and black-and-silver-mesh shirt underneath it, but he holds the black-and-red patterned material out to his partner nevertheless. "Take it," he orders brusquely.

Sakura's reaction is immediate and visceral; she recoils as if he had just held out a giant Burmese python and asked her to wrap it around her neck. "Oh, _hell_ no!" she hisses, backing out into the path and fixing the cloak with a glare of utter disgust. "The day I put _that _on is the day that hell can freaking freeze over—"

"It is not an induction into the Akatsuki, for the kami's sake," Itachi retorts sharply; the past hour has taken its toll on his already-worn nerves, as well. "There is no logical reason for you to get cold and wet."

Sakura literally has to bite back Inner Sakura's instinctive comeback about him being able to just warm her up, if that were the case, and she just places her hands on her hips, matching his glare with the best she has to offer. For a moment, Itachi forgets why they are even engaging in yet another pointless power struggle in the first place – she is soaked to the skin, and shivering and too pale, even though her eyes are burning with that same heated vitality that is _always_ in them, and he wants nothing more than to take Sakura in his arms and press her against the tree and—

"…You can turn it inside out, if you so wish," Itachi says, instead, forcing himself to look away.

Sakura just stares at him for a few moments like she has no idea what to say, but finally, she turns it inside out and puts it on. It is surprisingly heavy and warm, and actually waterproof, as well, and the two of them make it halfway to the next town without further incident, before stopping at a small bar to get some kind of dinner. Itachi very nearly refuses on principle, but even he cannot deny that they will require some form of sustenance in order to make the next twenty-five miles in a timely fashion.

And that is how Itachi and Sakura walk into a bar. At least to Sakura, it sounds like the beginning of one of those really lame jokes, although from the almost physically distressed expression on her partner's face, it is only too clear that he does not consider this to be a laughing matter at all. The bar is not crowded in the least, but it is too smoky and fairly pulsating with loud music, and the scent of various types of alcohol is so strong that Sakura absentmindedly wonders if she is getting drunk just by inhaling the fumes. Itachi looks completely out of place, and immediately after the two of them walk in, he manages to find them the most dark, shadowy, and generally menacing corner of the whole establishment to lurk in.

"What's the fun in this?" Sakura asks rhetorically, propping her chin up in her hand and staring morosely at the distant square of cardboard taped to the wall, which advertises all the available food and drinks.

Itachi does not reply, as he is too busy shooting every other patron of the bar very suspicious and paranoid glances.

Sakura sighs a little, closing her eyes for a moment, before opening them again and staring blearily down at the wooden table beneath her elbows. The temptation to lean on his shoulder is increasing by the moment, and it is getting harder and harder to keep it under control. "You should buy me a drink," she mumbles. Contrary to popular belief (considering who her mentor was), she has never partaken in any alcoholic beverages, but from what Tsunade-shishou had always claimed, they were literally miracle drugs.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Itachi smirk slightly. "Unlikely – you are not anywhere near old enough to drink."

Oh, so he wanted to play _that_ game.

Sakura makes it a point to hook her foot around his leg under the table, relishing the way that Itachi stiffens drastically. "Yeah?" she asks, a little vindictively, before removing her foot. "Well, technically, I'm not legal, either."

There is a long moment of silence between them.

"Sake?" Itachi asks, wincing somewhat.

Sakura smirks a little in response. "That sounds great."

-

Their shotglasses aren't even ready by the time everything starts to go wrong.

In all honesty, Sakura doesn't notice when Itachi first flinches like that – or when he discreetly looks down at the scarlet ring on his finger, only to find it glowing a brighter vermilion than usual. She only realizes that something is very, very out of place when her partner stands up suddenly, the set of his shoulders a lot tenser now than they were about ten minutes ago. Before she can even make a move to follow, Itachi's fingers tangle with hers, and he pulls her out of the bar quickly and unceremoniously, through a side exit.

The cold, fresh night air is a slap to her face, and Sakura coughs once. "What—"

Itachi cuts her off with a shake of his head, and then her back is pressed up against the cold stone of the bricks, his hands cupping her elbows, with her hands poised to push him away, before she had even fully realized what he was doing. "Madara," he says hoarsely, and when he lifts his hand and pulls the long black-and-red patterned sleeve away from it, revealing the glowing red ring, Sakura's breath actually catches in her throat.

"What are we going to do?" she asks fiercely, her hand already going to the kunai pack strapped to her upper thigh.

"_We_ are going to do nothing," Itachi replies, and even though he is talking very fast, he manages to otherwise exude a deceptive aura of calm. "I will respond to the summons immediately and see if there have been any…further developments, and you will proceed to our destination _safely _and wait for me there."

Sakura bristles visibly, pushing him away and taking a few distinctly menacing steps forward, backing Itachi up against the chain link fence that borders the property. "I am not going to sit back and do _nothing_!" she hisses venomously, her right hand curling into a fist. "Who knows why he's summoning you! There could be something really wrong, and you shouldn't go alone—"

"Sakura, we do not even have a fully formed plan," Itachi returns quietly, his shoulders tensing even further. "Attempting anything less on _Madara_ would be suicidal."

The truth of what he is saying starts to sink in, and Sakura feels her shoulders sink as she bites her lip, turning away abruptly. She feels so nervous and apprehensive (for Naruto, even for _him_; for everything) that she could be sick, but before she can follow this idea to completion, Itachi pulls her into his arms, effectively interrupting any logical train of thought that she is carrying on. The contact is awkward and brief; her shoulder and the right side of her body collides roughly with his chest first, and then he is actually embracing her out of his own free will, stroking her damp hair as he does so. He offers her no words whatsoever, but it is only too obvious that the actions had been intended as reassurance, and Sakura closes her eyes tight against his shoulder, one of her hands fisting around the material of his Akatsuki cloak.

Letting go is too hard in every possible way, and the moment Sakura shoves her better judgment to the side and stands on the tips of her toes to kiss him on the cheek, she finds that Itachi is already gone.

-

_Rain_

-

Madara's conference room is dark, as usual, and only lit by a few spare candles scattered onto a table on the opposite side of the cavernous space. The shadows cast as a result are eerie, to say the least, and it takes Itachi's eyes a moment to adjust to the change in lighting – and one moment further to lock on Madara himself.

The elder Uchiha is a shadow, darker than the rest, punctuated only by the incandescent gleam of his crimson eyes. He paces, wraithlike, on the far side of the room, and Itachi remains still, his bloodline limit fixed on the chilling sight. Easily, he can tell that something is not right – Madara is never this restless and physically uncontrolled unless he is very, _very _angry.

Madara turns to face him, at last, and the degree of pure, vehement and barely controlled rage in the Mangekyou stage of his bloodline limit would have made a lesser shinobi recoil. "Itachi Uchiha," he spits, the usual sibilant hiss twisted into something even darker and more malevolent. "The greatest prodigy the Uchiha clan and Konoha has ever seen; one of the three most talented shinobi in history…"

Itachi tenses even further, more than ready to counter any attack – mental or physical – that may come. "Yes," he replies guardedly and in his customary monotone, knowing that his detachedness will only serve to infuriate Madara more and end the mind games a little bit faster.

Predictably enough, Madara's eyes flash in renewed fury, although his voice, when it comes, has regained its usual, icily controlled hiss. "All of those accolades – and yet, you cannot even keep your little whore in her place?"

Itachi's eyes flash blood-red, and Madara is not even finished articulating the sentence when the kunai misses his throat by a fraction of an inch.

He ends up catching it easily, spinning it around by the hilt and aiming the point right between Itachi's narrowed, swirling crimson-and-black eyes. "I seem to have touched a nerve, I see," Madara replies slowly. "I apologize. I must have underestimated the difficulty of subduing or otherwise distracting a sixteen-year-old kunoichi long enough for her dear friend to bleed to death. However, imagine _my _surprise when Kakuzu reported back to Pein earlier today, nearly in a state of panic over the thought-to-be-_dead _Uzumaki renegade's attempts at sabotaging Akatsuki leadership of Waterfall."

Madara's eyes narrow fractionally, and Itachi can easily see how the older shinobi is effortlessly picking his body language apart, trying his hardest to detect any sign of the treachery that is most certainly present. "_I _should apologize," the younger Uchiha replies smoothly, effortlessly. "I had left Sakura alone for a short period of time, and when I returned, she was nowhere to be found." Now he narrows his eyes. "If I had received some prior notice of the commencement of the operation, however, I would have been able to sufficiently…subdue her in some way."

For a few long, tense moments, Madara looks Itachi over appraisingly. Finally, apparently having found whatever he had been looking for, the true leader of the Akatsuki relaxes minutely. "I will not make such an error next time," he replies levelly.

"Next time?" Itachi inquires, just barely remembering to keep his tone as disinterested and clinical as possible.

"Those mercenaries were extraordinarily expensive." Madara sighs slightly, picking up the shotglass of sake that had been sitting at his elbow, and drowning it in one gulp. "It will take some time to recoup the necessary funds to mount another assassination attempt on the Uzumaki." He pauses, his eyes taking on a strangely speculative gleam as he looks his once-protégé over once again. "Of course, those complications could be averted if—"

He trails off, obviously deep in thought, and Itachi tries to ignore the sudden shiver of foreboding that runs through the length of his spine. "If?" he asks coolly.

Madara twirls the kunai through his long, rail-thin fingers. "According to reports from a variety of our spies, the Uzumaki's skill has improved in leaps and bounds in the eleven months or so that he has been away from Konoha," he replies, at length. "However, I still have the greatest amount of confidence that you would be able to defeat him in combat."

There is a barely-visible flash of silver, and then Itachi catches the blade of the kunai between two of his fingers, the point a fraction of an inch away from piercing his chest, as he slowly looks back up at Madara. "Are you suggesting—"

"It should be obvious," Madara replies smoothly, and he gives Itachi a strangely knowing, twisted smirk. "I will be instructing Kakuzu to tap into Waterfall's funds in order to send a few new teams of mercenaries after Naruto as soon as possible, but _your _new task – which should be carried out as immediately as possible, in the slight chance that the others fail – is to eliminate the Uzumaki, once and for all. …Oh, and Itachi?"

Without waiting for a response, Madara opens one palm, and all of Itachi's muscles stiffen as a tiny Sakura-hologram – genjutsu, of course – springs to life in it. To his horror, he realizes that the miniature Sakura is dressed as she had been during their morning after – wearing his black t-shirt and nothing else, holding a cup of tea in her hands and looking deceptively fragile and defenseless.

"Do not allow her to get in the way again."

In the same second, the little Sakura's neck twists one hundred and eighty degrees and snaps with a sickening crunch.

-

_Lightning_

-

Sakura has been pacing for half an hour.

She doesn't know how she made it to the town and managed to procure a decent room in the inn – it had probably been done on some kind of autopilot. But she had done all right, and now she is pacing the length of the small, darkened room, having thrown her bag on the bed haphazardly. She is scared and she feels powerless and she _hates _feeling this way, and she's almost thrown up twice since getting here. And now, she doesn't know whether that's because of a mindset or because of her extreme emotional stress, or whether it's just hunger, or—

Sakura stops, forcing herself to take a few deep breaths, and raking her gloved fingers through her hair hard. The pain helps her regain a little bit of her composure, and she sits on the edge of the bed a little shakily, pressing her hands between her knees and closing her eyes as she does so.

Only a few minutes later, she inhales and notices that distinctive, lingering scent of ash and smoke. And when she opens her eyes wearily, Itachi is next to her. He looks as worn as she feels, and pale and strangely shaken, and before Sakura can even pounce on him and demand information, the elder Uchiha obliges. "Madara knows," he says wearily. "Apparently Naruto has not been trying to keep as low of a profile as he should; Kakuzu learned of his still being alive, and reported to the Akatsuki leadership."

Sakura springs to her feet immediately and resumes pacing in tight, narrow circles in front of their bed. She is almost nibbling on her fingernails; a habit that she thought she had broken four years ago, when she had been twelve. "So?" she asks, a little unsteadily. "What are they going to do?"

"Madara has instructed Kakuzu to tap into the Kage's funds in order to hire another team of assassins," Itachi says, at last. He keeps his words guarded, though – there is no need for Sakura to know the _rest _of Madara's instructions, because they can hopefully prevent it from coming to that…

"Damn it!" Sakura spins around, pressing the back of her hand to her too-flushed forehead, before collapsing back on the bed. She hurts all over, inside and out, and right now, the option of crawling into a hole in the ground and _dying_ sounds really good. Her mind is working too hard, and it feels as though she hadn't slept in days. "…I need to go and warn him," she manages, the words barely managing to work their way free of her throat.

Itachi watches her warily. It looks like Sakura barely has enough strength to sit up, let alone travel to Waterfall – but he knows that telling her had been the right thing to do. Instructing her not to push herself would simply be ridiculous; she loves Naruto enough to want to protect him, no matter what the personal cost or danger to herself is, and she would never listen to him if he told her to do otherwise. But at the same time, Itachi simply cannot allow Sakura to be put in such danger – she has no idea what Madara is capable of—

"…Itachi."

He turns around sharply, his disturbing train of thought interrupted, and with that, Sakura slowly pulls herself up and wraps her arms around his neck, burying her neck into the crook of his shoulder. Itachi freezes, his hands instinctively going to steady her at the small of her back, holding her close like he hasn't in far too long, and he feels her take a few shaky, trembling breaths. "Thank you," she whispers quietly, her voice muffled against his shoulder, her nerves too frayed to think about any smoother ways to phrase it. "I'll be back within the next hour, hopefully."

Itachi's arms tighten around the pink-haired kunoichi, trying to hold her in place and warn her and _try _to convince her not to go, but it is like trying to hold smoke with his bare hands, and in the next second, he is completely alone.

-

_Waterfall_

-

"How's Naruto?"

Jiraiya presses the cup of tea into her hands, and Sakura gives him a tiny smile, cradling the welcome warmth in her palms. "Oh, more than fine," Jiraiya replies airily. "I could even wake him up, if you want—"

Sakura shakes her head, taking a sip of the fortifying ginger tea. It is the only thing that she has eaten since the mangoes in the evening, and it burns its way down her raw throat and into her empty stomach. "It's fine," she says in a small voice. Perhaps it is selfish, but she doesn't think that she can handle seeing Naruto just yet – having sex with Itachi had felt like a personal betrayal of Naruto, in more ways than one. "After…you know, the attack…I know it was a while ago, but between that and all the training he's been doing, he still needs all the rest he can get."

Jiraiya nods, and for a moment, the two of them are silent. They have left the campsite as to not to bother the sleeping Naruto, and settled across from one another, on opposite sides of a small fire bordering the nearby lake. "So, Sakura," he says at last, and the curiosity in his tone is evident, even as he tilts his head back in order to take a sip of his own cup of tea. "I'm glad that you're visiting more regularly, but you've never been the type to conduct social visits at nine at night while looking like you just had the roughest day of your life…am I right?"

Sakura laughs a little mirthlessly at this; she can see the extreme shadows in her eyes in the surface of her tea. "You're right. It's…" she hesitates; closes her eyes for a moment, and then just plunges ahead recklessly, because there is no other way to word this that could help her avoid the awkward questions that are sure to follow. "Naruto, and the Akatsuki – he's in danger again. Kakuzu just found out that Naruto's alive; he reported it to the Akatsuki leadership, and…I guess Kakuzu's supposed to tap into the Kage funds from Waterfall in order to hire another team of mercenaries to come after Naruto. That could happen any day now, so you two either need to get out of here or be _really careful_—"

The breath leaves her body in a long sigh, leaving her too exhausted to say more in the same breath, and Sakura has to take another sip of tea in order to somewhat restore herself. Jiraiya just watches her, looking downright aghast, and much older than his years, as the information sinks in. "Sakura," he says, at last. "…That's information that even _our_ network hasn't picked up. How did you—"

_Oh, shit._

Sakura has always been able to think fast in order to fabricate and execute a convincing lie (all kunoichi have to be), and, depressingly enough, she knows that Jiraiya trusts her enough to only chalk up the tremor in her right hand to mere exhaustion. "There's this bar," she replies evenly, even though her heart is sinking lower and lower with every moment that passes. "I go there for dinner every night, except I henge my hair black, just in case. There are…a couple of Akatsuki members who are regular customers as well. They stick to the back and keep to themselves, but I've managed to get a decent glimpse of their cloaks before – and I mean, with some enhanced chakra in the right places, I can overhear their conversations, too."

Jiraiya leans closer, his interest completely captured – and having bought her lie completely. "Do you know which ones?" he presses intently.

_Oh, kami, why did I let myself get into this situation—_

"I-Itachi," Sakura replies, hoping beyond hope that the stammer hadn't been too noticeable, and that she had pronounced his name like it was still a little unfamiliar on her lips… "And his partner. Kisame."

Jiraiya takes a deep breath, before sitting back again, obviously deep in thought. The fire casts strange shadows on his face, and he looks much older than his years. "The Uchiha, hm?" he asks darkly.

Sakura nods, and for a few long, tense moments, both of them are immersed in their own thoughts.

"Sakura."

His deep, gravelly voice breaks her out of her own miserable contemplations, and the pink-haired kunoichi looks up at him sharply. Surprisingly enough, Jiraiya looks…not worried, as he had been before, but deeply uncomfortable. "Has Itachi ever – noticed you?" he asks, his concerned eyes boring into hers.

For a moment, Sakura freezes, unsure of what would be the right or wisest reply in this situation, and her fingers draw nervous little patterns in the dirt, before her mind catches the movement and forces her hand to still. "I've accidentally locked eyes with him a few times; about once every night," she says slowly, keeping her eyes trained into the orange-red depths of the fire. "He knows that I…exist, I guess, although I keep my chakra completely masked."

Jiraiya brushes one hand through his long white hair, now looking even more unsettled by the topic that they are about to discuss. "Does he seem – interested?" he asks, his voice low. "From all reports and observations by hunter kunoichi, the Uchiha is completely averse to such things, but…" he shrugs, looking down into the fire as well. "You're a pretty girl, and with your hair black…" – his eyes shadow with some sort of memory, and for a moment, he looks at Sakura as if she were somebody else entirely – "…you'd be just his type."

The comment about her being _just his type_ if her hair was black distracts Sakura for a moment, and it's not _jealousy_ or anything, but she suddenly and irrationally remembers Itachi's comment on June eighth, about not have being intimate with anybody since six years ago – and then things start to make sense.

And then she remembers the morning that she had gone back to Konoha, as well. Of using that henge to make her eyes silver-gray, and her hair black, but not changing anything else – and Itachi's sudden, immediate and completely inexplicable reaction…

Sakura has to bite her tongue hard to keep her expression neutral.

"…I guess he might be," she replies, her tone staying surprisingly even.

For a long while, Jiraiya is silent, looking almost more troubled than she has ever seen him, and the wind stirs the leaves of the trees, throwing a few rogue sparks from the fire up into the darkened sky and making Sakura shiver.

"I don't like what I'm about to say," he murmurs at last. "It's…Tsunade would have killed me for even thinking of putting you in such a compromising situation, and Kakashi would probably have helped." His dark gray eyes soften a little, though, which only makes the lines on his face look more pronounced in the heavy shadowing caused by the firelight, and Sakura tenses almost imperceptibly, because she already thinks she knows where this is going to go, and—

"It would be a sacrifice on your part," Jiraiya says heavily. "But it's the only surefire way to protect Naruto."

It feels as though a dark, leaden weight has settled in Sakura's stomach, but she forces herself to speak anyway, just for clarification, and some part of her marvels that, with her throat closed this tight, she is even able to talk at all. "You want me to…"

"You're a kunoichi," Jiraiya says, by way of explanation, the firelight reflecting darker in his eyes. "You probably know how to – and, when you're under that henge, he'll probably have a subconscious weakness toward you, as well. When the Uchiha is at his most vulnerable, you'll need to take control of the situation and use that interrogation technique that Tsunade created to use on Orochimaru. Get as much information out of him as you possibly can; keep it going for a few nights if necessary. And after that…" he shrugs. "Kill him."

The prospect is nearly making Sakura feel physically repulsed, and her shoulders tremble once – but this time Jiraiya sees her discomfort, and he sighs, before reaching across and patting her hand once. "I wouldn't ask you to do this, Sakura," he murmurs, "if it wasn't the only way. You're the only one in a position to do anything significant to protect Naruto from the Akatsuki – from Itachi. He's the biggest threat to our interests at this point."

He waits, patiently, and at last, the pink-haired kunoichi across from him nods once. Sakura looks even wearier and more exhausted to the bone than she had even when arriving here, and she swipes the back of her hand across her eyes as she does so. "Don't worry," she whispers, and her voice is strong; it doesn't waver in the least. "I'll do it."

-

_Lightning_

-

She doesn't go back to Itachi. _Can't_, after what Jiraiya had said to her – at least, not for now. Not tonight.

Sakura finds a cave on the side of a sharp cliff on her way back to Lightning. It is on the coast, overlooking the stormy ocean, and it is small and rocky and bare, but it provides her sufficient shelter from the elements. It is cold, but that cannot be helped, and the dead silence of the area is only punctuated by the crash of the waves against the rocks below, and the occasional rumble of thunder.

She presses herself against the wall furthest away from the cave opening, and slides to the hard floor, drawing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them, before resting her aching head on top of them, and in that one moment, Sakura feels so much older than her sixteen and a half years.

If she were anybody else, she would want to run; to leave everything behind. And it is likely the stress that is making her think this, but for the most fleeting of seconds, the future that Itachi had delineated for them doesn't sound as horrible as it had earlier. It actually sounds much better than what her life is, right now.

Sakura rests one slightly shaking hand, wavering with slightly weakened chakra, on her stomach, but she is too exhausted to complete the process; to even think straight. It can wait until the morning.

She hates herself for doing it and tries to stop even before it starts, but today and the past three weeks have just been too much for even _her_ to deal with, and for the first time in six months, Sakura finally lets herself break down and cry.

* * *

_to be continued_

* * *

As always, thank you so much to everybody who was kind enough to leave comments on the previous chapter, and any and all feedback for this one would be very much appreciated. :)


	16. Reconciliations

_As always, thank you so much to everybody who was fantastic enough to review. :)_

_-_

_Chapter Sixteen: Reconciliations _

_-_

Sakura ends up crying herself to sleep.

—Well, if it can even be called _sleep_ in the first place is debatable. She is still conscious of the cold, salty air's relentless biting on her skin, making it pale and raw, and of the hard, merciless rock that she is leaning against; her muscles are stiff already. But still, she dreams – strange, nerve-wracking strings of images and feelings that leave her trembling from head to toe.

Sakura dreams of being a mother, first. Of being no older than seventeen, and standing in a small, airy, and unfamiliar but absolutely beautiful room. She is holding a tiny black-haired, green-eyed baby close in her arms, letting it bury his little head into the side of her neck and fist one tiny hand into the material of her dress. And Itachi is standing at her side, quietly watching the affectionate exchange, letting Sakura rest her head on his shoulder in turn, as he wraps an arm around her waist and gently half-holds her, in his own subtle way.

But then the little nursery is suddenly too small; the windows are blocked, and it is dark, pitch black. There is a pair of very familiar hands taking _her _baby out of her arms, and Sakura protests and tries to lunge forward and punch whoever it is through the next wall. Except that there is suddenly a kunai in her hands, curved and wickedly sharp, preventing her from curling them into fists, and Naruto is standing behind her, holding her in place and placing one hand on her right shoulder, and so is Jiraiya, placing one hand on her left. They are smoky, nearly unseen entities, but Itachi seems completely unaware of them, and of the change of scene, as he smoothes a lock of hair behind her ear and presses a soft kiss to her forehead, and Sakura stands still, transfixed with horror.

The Naruto in her dreams caresses her shoulder; leans forward until his phantom lips brush the shell of her ear. "Kill him, Sakura-chan," he implores softly. "He's going to get to me first if you don't. He's still the enemy, remember?"

"Do your duty, Sakura," Jiraiya intones, his voice utterly somber, as he reaches forward, curling her stiff, unresponsive fingers more firmly around the hilt of the kunai. "Remember that you're a Konoha kunoichi – and that we know that you will make the right choice."

The shadows shift around her, suffocating her, and the Sakura of her dreams is paralyzed. The shadows have red clouds lingering on their surfaces, now, and—

Her eyes snap open, and she wakes up, as quickly and cleanly as if somebody had poured a bucket of icy water right over her head.

It takes a moment for Sakura to register the fact that she has wrapped her arms too close around herself, her hands gripping the skin above her elbows so hard that she has left vicious bruises against her pale skin, in order to keep herself from shaking. Refusing to show weakness even in sleep, even though now her throat is tight and the backs of her eyes are burning, because she has done too much damn crying for the past hour, and that has _never_ fixed anything.

Needless to say, the short catnap has not relaxed her in the least. Sakura's nerves feel completely set on edge; her muscles too taut and drawn too tightly. To make matters worse, the sheer trauma of that dream is making her feel too awake and afraid to even try to go back to sleep…like she has just injected about twenty shots of unadulterated caffeine straight into her bloodstream.

And then one of the shadows shifts again.

Too late, she remembers that she had forgotten to mask her chakra before coming here, and Sakura stands up as fast as she can, already curling one hand into a fist loaded with enough chakra to shatter the solid stone walls of the cave. Before the pink-haired kunoichi even fully realizes what she is doing, her other hand has already pulled out a shuriken from the small pouch strapped around her thigh, and sent it spinning in the direction of the disturbance, with such lethal speed that it makes the slightest whirring noise as it slits through the air.

And then she is knocked back against the wall, not too hard at all, but enough to make Sakura's breath catch in her throat. There are only three people alive, who could have countered her attack like that, and Itachi tightens his grip around her wrist, forcing it back against the wall, while the crimson-and-black pinwheels of his bloodline limit locks mercilessly with her own stunned gaze. "You left your chakra signature unconcealed," he murmurs, and Sakura cannot help but detachedly observe that although Itachi's tone usually gets even more silkily dangerous when he is angry, now, it sounds surprisingly rubbed raw by what must be stress. "Maybe I should inform you as to just how that act was one of unparalleled stupidity and immaturity, as well as a display of a shocking lack of self-preservation," he hisses, his eyes sweeping over her coldly. "What would you have done if I were an enemy?"

Sakura's eyes flash rebelliously, and with one twist of her wrist and arm that even the Sharingan had not been able to fully anticipate, Itachi finds their roles reversed, and her grip on him is nothing less than painful. But for the first time, he takes the time to glance over his partner…and he notices that she is incredibly pale and shivering just a little bit; her eyes are painfully red, as well, with faint tear tracks visible down her cheeks. Sakura glares at him venomously; still, unfazed by the searching gaze that he is giving her. "Damn it, Itachi," she says, through gritted teeth, and using her degree of chakra-enhanced strength in order to keep him in place. "Are you freaking _incapable_ of acting like a normal person?"

And now, Itachi matches the glare that she is giving him with an equally icy one of his own. "And how would you advise that I do that, _Sakura_?" he asks acidly. "By giving my – partner – no warning whatsoever, before simply disappearing into potentially dangerous territory for hours, perhaps? After telling him that you would simply be absent for an hour, at most?"

She releases him then, abruptly turning away and raking her fingers through her hair. "Kami," Sakura finally manages, staring out into the stormy ocean one hundred feet below the cave's exit, and just barely keeping her temper under wraps. She would never say this normally, because she knows that Itachi would never, _could_ never do this, but the past few hours have pushed her right to an emotional breaking point that refuses to listen to reason. "Just come out and say you were worried about me. _Please_."

For a few long moments, there is nothing except the distant sound of the crashing of the waves against the rocks below, and then Itachi's hands are on her hips, roughly pulling her back to him. Her forehead collides with his shoulder none too gently, and for a moment, Sakura is a little dazed, but then he is kissing her in a way that tastes extremely frustrated, his hands sliding from her hips all the way up her back, and from there, all over her, tangling in her hair and tilting her neck back as he deepens the kiss. Sakura is very nearly unresponsive; she tastes like cold, salty tears, and it only makes Itachi even more vexed in ways that he does not fully understand, because he does not want her to be this upset, ever, and knowing that _he _may have directly or indirectly contributed to this – because what else could have? – is enough to send a thoroughly unpleasant shiver down his spine.

Still, Itachi presses her against the wall, holding Sakura close enough that the warmth from his body begins to seep into hers, because this is the only possible way he can consider even attempting to help her hurt a little less. And Sakura had definitely not planned on it – because it never seems to lead to anything but heartache on her part – but finally, she begins to kiss him back, slowly and tentatively, for as long as they are able, because she hates the fact that she _does_ more than anything else, but – she had missed him. Because with them, it feels like they are always coming so close to some real progress, only to take two steps back again. But this is better than the past three weeks; than pretending that they had never taken _that_ step in their relationship, and that, for one night, the relationship in question had felt…real.

They stop, after what feels like a long time, and Sakura rests her forehead against his shoulder, more than a little overwhelmed. Itachi is still holding her; his arms are wrapped around her waist, and when he speaks again, his voice is more than a little hoarse and far too _not_ detached and impassive to be suitable. He does not know where this unprecedented honesty as to his feelings toward her has come from, but he is slowly coming to realize that perhaps it might be better than the alternative. "Do you really need to hear me say it?" Itachi asks quietly, the crashing of the waves nearly overwhelming his words.

Sakura closes her eyes – because she would like to hear it, yes, but at the same time, Itachi had shown her…and she knows that, for now at least, that is the best he can do. "…No," she whispers, after a while. "I guess not."

She isn't sure how Itachi manages to ease both of them comfortably to the floor without letting go of her once, but within a matter of moments, Sakura is leaning against his chest, with both of his arms gently wrapped around her. It feels like compensation for the past few weeks, but she is worn enough for this thought only to arouse the slightest amount of bitterness. For his part, Itachi watches her take a few deep breaths – she feels incredibly thin, curled up against him like this, and _he _feels momentarily confused. Such is his nature that, in all the months that they have been together, he has never outright asked her or ventured any comments whatsoever on the occasions that Sakura has felt under the weather in any way. Even in his relationship with Shisui, it is just something that Itachi had never done; he trusts that, if it were something truly serious, Shisui – and now, Sakura – would tell him, and that methodology has always worked thus far. The mere act of offering this kind of almost tender physical support and reassurance sets his nerves on edge more than a little, as well, but it is only too clear that this could be the one time that Sakura actually might need it; need him.

Almost as if reading his mind, Sakura sighs softly, feeling the steady rhythm of Itachi's heartbeat underneath her cheek. He is not asking her anything, but she knows he would never – it would be completely out of his character for him to ever do something like ask about how she is feeling. At the same time, though, for all the months that she has been with him, there has always just been a quality about Itachi that made her feel that, no matter what she could talk about or say, he would always listen…even if he offered no external feedback or response whatsoever. Still, the thought of actually _talking _to him about everything that is going on and everything that she is feeling; everything that she has taken such care to keep from him, essentially – makes Sakura more than a little uneasy, because this is so different from all the little stories and life experiences that she used to share with Itachi when they had first been getting to know each other.

Supposedly, they are on different sides. Supposedly, Itachi is still the number one enemy and threat to _their _Konoha – and therefore, Naruto's – best interests.

And maybe it makes her stupid and blind (because love is supposed to be blind, right?), but Sakura still trusts him enough to do this. Hell, with things the way they are – she cannot help but let the back of her hand brush and linger over her stomach, a little wistfully – she _has _to be able to trust Itachi. Because finally getting things sorted out between them might make everything more complicated – but it might make them less complicated, as well, and right now, that is what she needs most.

Itachi knows that she is about to speak before she does, and, true enough, after a few moments, Sakura pulls herself up into a proper sitting position at his side, looking at him very seriously. "I have a lot that I should probably tell you," she admits quietly, redirecting her glance to the floor – and it does take Itachi by surprise when the pink-haired kunoichi takes his right hand in hers for a moment, intertwining their fingers together, before looking back up at him firmly. "And I promise to be completely honest, but only if you are in return," she decrees, more bravely than she feels.

To tell the truth, this is the _last _thing that Itachi wants – the mere thought is enough to completely set his nerves on edge. He is most definitely not a compulsive liar by any stretch of the imagination, but for the past six years, he has lived as a double agent, and on top of that, he has always been secretive, cynical, introverted and intensely withdrawn by nature. The idea of the degree of sheer, raw, full disclosure that Sakura is suggesting is almost completely foreign to him, and Itachi meets her gaze evenly; he knows that, by this point, she can merely read the subtle cues of his body language and draw the right conclusions…on the rare occasions that he allows her to.

Predictably enough, Sakura immediately pulls away from him, glaring as she does so. "Don't you think that after all we've been through together, we _should_ tell each other the truth about things?" she asks, sounding deceptively patient, while untangling their fingers and firmly reclaiming her hand. Itachi watches, careful to keep his expression utterly devoid of emotion, as she curls her fingers into a white-knuckled fist around the hem of her split skirt, and he cannot help but observe that Sakura seems to be a little more emotionally volatile of late.

Sakura has to take a few deep breaths to keep from doing anything that she probably would regret later, raking her gloved fingers through her hair so that the pain can help her regain her composure somewhat. Her body is still utterly exhausted from the inside out, and she feels incredibly nauseous, with a headache beginning to pound mercilessly at the back of her head, as well. The last thing she needs right now is to deal with Itachi's stupid issues with intimacy or trust or whatever, because all she wants is to _fix things _with him, but he isn't cooperating, and for a moment, the pink-haired kunoichi actually almost sees red. She hadn't intended for this to turn into a fight, but—

Before Itachi can even blink, one of Sakura's hands curls into a fist, and the next thing he knows, he has been dragged to his feet again, and slammed dizzyingly hard into the solid stone wall, by the furious kunoichi in front of him. Taking advantage of his split second of disorientation, she grabs his ponytail roughly, pulling him down in front of her, so their noses are barely an inch apart, and this close to Sakura, Itachi can easily see that the girl in front of him looks completely torn between giving in to the tears that are threatening to spill over – or simply following through on her baser impulses, by punching him through the wall.

She hadn't planned to say it; she really hadn't, because even in her state of mind, Sakura can tell that it is a low and unnecessarily vicious kind of attack…but at the same time, it is the only thing that will get the right reaction out of Itachi.

She forces herself to release his hair, taking one step back and making it a point to run her eyes over her nonplussed-looking partner, from head to toe and back again, with as distasteful a gaze as she can muster. "So," Sakura manages, at last, making sure her voice is quiet and vindictive enough, as she locks gazes with Itachi once again. "So you can fuck me, but you can't talk to me? I'm glad to know that – that's all I must mean to you."

He couldn't have looked more stunned if she had literally pulled out a kunai and stabbed him through the heart with it.

Hating herself more with every step, Sakura spins around as fast as she can, stalking toward the entrance of the cave and sitting down on the small, solid ledge of rock there. The stone is cold against her bare arm as she leans the left side of her body against the wall, feeling the icy, saline sting of the ocean spray against her face. She can literally feel Itachi's gaze on her back, too, and she can practically envision the look on his face. Because, damn it – she bites her lip hard, forcing herself not to feel any emotion – Sakura _knows_ that she means a lot more to him than that, and from Itachi's reaction…he thought she knew, too.

It takes all of her considerable amount of willpower to remain motionless as Itachi silently approaches, kneeling beside her. The wind whips his Akatsuki cloak around him, pulling even more loose locks of hair out of his ponytail. For a few moments, neither of them moves a muscle, even though he is just a few inches away from her, close enough to lean against, and Sakura makes sure to studiously watch a small fissure within the rock. Her stomach twists into this incredible knot, one that makes her feel lightheaded, because she is sorry – so, ridiculously, completely, sorry for saying that, but worse, she cannot even deny that she had _felt_ that way, for just a moment—

And then Itachi slowly, tentatively wraps an arm around her waist, gently pulling her against him. He feels hollow from the inside out, inescapably so, because _damn it,_ if Sakura is the one he cares about most in this world, besides his own younger brother, and she can still think that she means so little to him – well, then, it is a bitter pill to swallow, but he must be doing something wrong.

"What do you want to know?" he asks quietly.

Sakura closes her eyes for just a moment, tucking her head underneath his chin in a gesture that Itachi will probably never realize to be the apology that it is. "I want to start," she murmurs, even though she is almost too weary to even keep her eyes open. She had promised Jiraiya that she would do this, yes, but last time she had attempted to use that interrogation technique on Itachi…it had nearly made her sick, and afterward, she had promised _herself_ that she would never again use it on somebody that she had come to love. Part of her is aware that finishing this sentence will have implications that she doesn't even want to fully understand – it will mean that she is putting Itachi ahead of Naruto, changing her loyalties, getting her priorities all out of order…and even the concept of that makes her head spin.

The breath leaves Sakura's body in a long sigh, and then she pulls herself up into a better sitting position, meeting her partner's gaze evenly. "In essence," she manages at last, finding it difficult to look at Itachi while saying this. "Jiraiya instructed me to – for Naruto's sake – hunt you down. Extract information from you, by way of," – and here, Sakura can't help but look down into the ocean guiltily – "…seduction, and keep that going for a few days or so, before—"

The words actually catch in her throat, forcing her to gesture vaguely with one of her hands for a moment. "…Killing you," Sakura finishes, the words coming out much more unsteadily than she would have hoped.

If Itachi is surprised, he doesn't show it – instead, he only inclines his head a fraction of an inch, waiting for more, and Sakura brushes the back of her hand against her suddenly too flushed cheek as she pushes a few windswept locks of hair out of her face. "I agreed," she says abruptly, staring down into the gray ocean, and the words come out far too fast. "I know it was stupid, and that you'll probably hate me for it, but I _couldn't _tell him. How do you possibly tell one of the shinobi that you respect most that you're literally already sleeping with the enemy?" Sakura pauses, taking a deep breath, and forcing her voice to steady itself; it has been getting higher and higher in pitch with every moment that has passed. "…When you don't even think that the enemy is really the enemy anymore?" she completes quietly, drawing her knees to her chest and hugging them close.

She hadn't wanted to even talk to Itachi about this, but now that she has started, she cannot seem to stop, and Sakura wipes the back of her hand against her eyes a little bitterly. "It's like, I could see the look of horror and disgust on Jiraiya's face if I had even tried to tell him," she whispers, locking her gaze downward, on her slightly shaking fingers, which she has tightly interlaced together. "I'm supposed to be a good kunoichi, you know? The cleverest girl out of my graduating class, Tsunade-shishou's student, and one of Konoha's best. I'm not supposed to be the stupid whore who would do this kind of thing, and I couldn't stand the thought of anybody thinking of me that way, which I _know _they would do if they found out; if I told Jiraiya." Sakura stops abruptly, swallowing over the cold lump that has lodged in the back of her throat. "And I – damn it, I _love _you, and I know it would have been the right thing; telling him the truth…but I just couldn't do it."

Sakura almost doesn't realize that she had even said it until she literally feels Itachi's entire body tense beside her. She hadn't planned on saying that. At all. It had just slipped out, but right now, she is too emotionally spent to even spend any time regretting it – even though she likely will, tomorrow morning. But it is the truth, after all, and that is what she had promised him.

Itachi says nothing in response, save for lightly placing one hand on her back and gently, almost comfortingly, stroking it along the length of her spine a few times. It reminds her of what he had done for her on her sixteenth birthday, and Sakura sighs again, tilting her head back a little, so that his hand brushes against her hair and begins to smooth the wind-tangled locks out. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, although she isn't sure why she is apologizing; for the betrayal she had almost committed, or for the impromptu confession.

"Do not apologize." Itachi pauses for a moment, his eyes hardening as he looks down at her, very seriously. "…And do not _ever _refer to yourself in that manner again."

Itachi's voice is firmer than it has ever been, with her, and Sakura blinks, startled, as she looks up at him. "Do you have anything…?" she asks, at last.

For a long while, Itachi struggles with what to say; still, he is more than a little overwhelmed by the information that Sakura had inadvertently disclosed, although he had – and still has – no idea how to respond to it properly. "Madara," he says, the words having difficulty working their way free of his throat, even though he takes care to keep his tone as detached and impassive as possible. "Earlier tonight…he imparted some instructions that I – refrained from mentioning to you."

Sakura stiffens, underneath his hand, before pulling away and giving him a markedly suspicious look. "Yes?" she inquires guardedly.

Itachi cannot help but take a somewhat deeper breath than normal, and beneath them, a bit of rock from the lower side of the cliffs crumbles under the constant onslaught of the stormy waves, before finally tumbling into the depths of the dark ocean. "The first aspect of Madara's plan was to have Kakuzu pay one new team of assassins to pursue Naruto," the elder Uchiha finally states, although the words come out as more of a sigh, and for the first time, he realizes how exhausted he is. Sakura is watching him with rapt attention, though, her fingernails clearly digging into her palms, and Itachi forces himself to continue on. "…However, he was interested in conserving funds," he elaborates quietly, looking down into the rippling, eerie reflections of the gray stormclouds and sparse stars in the sea. "As a result, Madara decreed that, if the first team of assassins failed, I was to…" and Itachi hesitates, for once, attempting to phrase his next words as sensitively as possible. "…Complete their task."

For a few long moments, Sakura says nothing at all, and the short phrase hangs between them, heavy and tangible in the cool night air. Finally, she sighs, looking down at her feet. "I knew it," she replies colorlessly. "When you came back, you looked so incredibly – bothered. Upset. Whatever. But I guess I also knew that you would never, ever do something like that, no matter what he told you."

She falls silent again, and for a moment, Itachi does not know what to say – or even to think; it has been so very long since anybody has afforded him with this kind of unconditional trust, and, surprisingly enough, the feeling is as somehow troubling as it is pleasant and reassuring.

The previously cold, tangible wall between them seems to be breaking down just a little bit, though, as evidenced by the way Sakura sighs softly, resting her head against his shoulder. That is the only part of them that is touching, but for a little while, it is almost peaceful in a way that they haven't been in so very long.

Then Sakura pulls away from him abruptly, smoothing her hair flat against her collarbone in that nervous gesture that Itachi has come to notice, of late, as she resumes determinedly looking at the wall. "Sorry," she mumbles. "I know you said not to apologize for stuff, but – I really am sorry that I keep doing that, after—"

This time, she feels the weight of Itachi's nonplussed gaze on the back of her head. "What makes you think that I am bothered by it in any way?" he inquires carefully, after a minute or so.

Strangely enough, this seemingly innocent question elicits a surprisingly passionate response, as Sakura actually laughs – and it is strange, because when they had first started traveling together, Itachi remembers thinking that her most defining emotional characteristic was that seemingly neverending quantity of sheer cheerfulness – but it seems as if he has not heard her do this in such an impossibly long amount of time. The sound would be a lot more pleasant if it were not so bitter, though, and Sakura's smile fades for a fraction of a second as she looks back at him. "Are you _serious_?" she asks bluntly. "What else am I supposed to think, after…what happened?"

For once in his life, Itachi may actually be lost as to her meaning, as evidenced by the way he tilts his head a fraction of an inch to the side and watches her unblinkingly, and Sakura sighs impatiently, smoothing out invisible wrinkles in her skirt. She doesn't want to talk about this even more than she had not wanted to talk about Jiraiya's 'assignment' for her, but—

"After we slept together," she says curtly, silently willing her next words to be perfectly steady. "I thought that – you know…" Sakura gestures vaguely, absolutely despising her sudden lack of coherence. "That it _meant _something. That it was going to be the start of something real. It – it wasn't supposed to be the second time I did something so unbelievably emotional and then had to deal with the repercussions completely on my own, while the other person just essentially moved on without a problem." She stops, blinking rapidly, and unable to bring herself to even look at him. "You didn't even _look_ at me any differently, afterward," Sakura accuses, her voice barely even audible to her own ears, and she is trying her hardest not to sound like some overemotional teenage girl who foolishly gave somebody too much and had her heart broken in the aftermath, even as she places her right hand on her stomach, biting her lip hard to keep her shoulders from shaking. "And now…"

Meanwhile, Itachi is quietly, _very _quietly, panicking. He can talk and think about death, assassinations, betrayal, fate, and just about every other major issue of their world in a coolly logical fashion, but this?

Sakura hates it, but she is too far gone to resist by the time Itachi places one hand on the small of her back, gently tugging her closer to him. And then, her arms are wrapped around his neck, with her face buried against his shoulder. It feels just like what had happened on her sixteenth birthday, when she had cried and he had comforted her – the last time they'd had together before everything started to screw up beyond all belief.

Itachi strokes the length of her spine tentatively, over and over again, for what feels like an agonizingly long time, until he feels her sobs begin to subside. On the extraordinarily rare occasion that she does, Sakura cries absolutely silently; the infrequent ragged gasp for breath against his neck is the only indication that she is even doing anything more than just sleeping. Once Itachi judges her to be sufficiently calmed enough to listen, he finally speaks, and for the first time in more years than he cares to consider, he consciously tries to inflict just a little emotion into his tone, even though it doesn't quite turn out as well as he would have liked it to. He is torn as to what exactly to say, but even he knows that in this situation, _something _would be infinitely better than any kind of silence.

"I apologize," Itachi finally says, completely tonelessly.

Sakura is so shocked that she hiccups three times in a row and nearly chokes on the last vestiges of her tears.

He goes on to mumble something about his own selfish avoidance desires that stem from possessing a lack of capacity to handle emotional issues of this caliber, and a whole lot of other psychological crap that sounds like it was memorized out of a textbook, but Sakura listens, and she doesn't forgive him or come even close by any means, but still, it means _something_ to her.

"Why?" she asks at last, after drawing back and locking her gaze with his.

The question throws Itachi for a moment, and just before he can cautiously respond that he has already outlined that to her, Sakura shakes her head, looking at him sharply. "No. _Really. _I don't want to hear the intellectual rationalizing. I want to know exactly what you were thinking and feeling – because, yeah, I guess that you _can _feel stuff, after all – and you _are _going to tell me. Right now."

Her icy tone makes it only too clear that she will brook no arguments, and Itachi winces somewhat, knowing that his instinctive '_I do not feel comfortable discussing this_'-esque response will serve no constructive purpose in this conversation.

He has not been so…painfully honest with his own feelings toward anybody since the time he had told Shisui that he loved her, and that had been nerve-wrenchingly difficult enough. This, too, is setting every one of his nerves on edge, making him feel almost physically ill, but there is no escaping it – and Itachi meets Sakura's gaze perfectly levelly.

"When I first – initiated the contact, that night, I knew that whatever we could ever have was simply not meant to last," he replies, forcing his voice to stay cool and in control. "I believed that I could deal with the repercussions of the actions that I had set in motion. However…afterward; the next morning…I realized that I was mistaken."

Some distant, removed part of Sakura's mind starts screaming something along the lines of '_oh holy kami, Itachi Uchiha just admitted that he was, actually, wrong – landbreaking moment much?_' over and over again, but conscious, rational Sakura just blinks at him, a little lost. "You regretted it?" she asks tentatively, feeling something deep within her shatter even more.

Itachi looks away from her, and Sakura notices that his eyes have bled crimson, seemingly of their own accord. They are the clearest shade of red right now, like fresh strawberries, and she wonders when she had stopped fearing them. "Not quite," he admits, and in the first almost-nervous gesture that she has ever seen from him, Itachi almost compulsively smoothes out his long ponytail. "I had initially intended to…take advantage of every moment we had left, but after that night…that entire – experience – simply enabled me to realize that I could not tolerate being the temporary diversion that you amuse yourself with until the time comes for you to return…" he hesitates for a moment, darkened eyes shadowing even further with some unknown memories. "…To your home."

For the first time in his entire life, Itachi finds himself unable to look somebody else in the eye.

Somewhere in the unseen distance, a few seagulls caw. The darkened silhouettes of a few small vampire bats native to this area of Lightning flit against the almost-black sky and over the thin sliver of crescent moon.

And then, completely and utterly without warning, and with a suspiciously glittering look in her eyes, Sakura punches Itachi in the upper arm, beneath the shoulder, so hard that it feels as if the strike had reduced his muscles to a glutinous liquid, while completely numbing the bone, as well.

He is vaguely conscious of feeling all the blood drain from his face, even though otherwise, Itachi forces himself not to show any reaction, even when Sakura promptly draws her fist back and punches the other arm with similar force.

"You are, without doubt, the _stupidest_ and most asinine man that I have ever had the displeasure of being acquainted with," she informs him coolly, before recoiling her fist and cracking her knuckles with a deceptively casual air. "You're worse than your younger brother, you know that?"

Without giving him a chance to reply, Sakura continues on, rising to her knees and putting her hands on her hips, while Itachi simply watches, looking and feeling somewhat shell-shocked. "Do you really think that I would just use you as my temporary _diversion_?" she asks angrily, fisting one hand in the material of his Akatsuki cloak and dragging him closer. "I'm not the type of person who sleeps with people to amuse myself, you know—"

Itachi is fully aware that, to any outsider's perspective, it would seem downright outlandish – the way that he is allowing himself to be blatantly manhandled, as well as physically and verbally abused, by this incredibly breakable sixteen-year-old kunoichi…but, just as he has his difficulties expressing intense emotion of this caliber, Sakura has hers as well. This is simply her way of expressing herself, and Itachi says and does nothing, simply watching her glare at him.

"Are you attempting to imply that this could be permanent, Sakura?" he asks quietly, cutting off her tirade. "Regardless of what may have been unwise word choice on my part, the meaning is still the same."

For a long time, Sakura can't think of anything to say in response; she really can't. She shouldn't be thinking about it as a form of defeat, but still, his words sting in more ways than she wants to think about, and the pink-haired kunoichi unconsciously moistens her dry lips, looking down at the cold stone floor beneath them, and her grip on Itachi's cloak relaxes for a moment, before completely falling free. "So you and I were never meant to be," she says softly. "…However you choose to interpret that statement; I don't think anybody could ever contest it."

All of Itachi's muscles stiffen as his partner reaches up, wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her forehead against his shoulder. "But can't we just get past that and move on?" Sakura asks, her voice somewhat muffled.

Strangely enough, his first reaction is to smirk, and the once so familiar physical gesture feels a little foreign on his lips. "As always, your logic is completely faulty." But Itachi reciprocates the slight embrace nevertheless, placing both hands on the small of her back and drawing her closer. He is not sure how long they both sit there like that, completely unmoving, until he finally angles his head a little awkwardly, all too painfully conscious of the choice that he is about to make, before resting his cheek against her hair. "…Sakura," he murmurs quietly, still struggling with his words somewhat. "I will give you whatever I can, for however long our circumstances allow," Itachi finally completes, the tone of his voice as utterly serious as the promise that it is.

It is an ambiguous statement in every sense of the word, but for once, Sakura inclines her head a fraction of an inch, in understanding. "And I will, too," she whispers, feeling so emotionally spent that she could just go to sleep right now. They still need to talk about what to do about Madara – he needs to be eliminated, as soon as possible. Not to mention that she still should give herself that physical exam—

Distantly, she feels Itachi move back a few inches, settling both of them against the support offered by the stone wall. He gently relocates her to a comfortable position curled against his chest, with his arm around her, and he carefully pulls off his cloak, then, wrapping the warm, heavy material around them like a blanket.

Sakura closes her eyes, and for the second time in one night – except that this time, she is as close as to content or happy that she has been in weeks – she decides that it can wait until tomorrow.

-

_The Next Morning_

-

Itachi wakes up to the smell of salt, and the feel of cool, pale and somewhat washed-out slants of sunlight hitting one side of his cheek. Well, he is _half_-awake, in any case, and his senses are fully functional in even such a displeasing state.

_Displeasing,_ his mind offers, after a few moments; _dictionary definition – the antithesis of 'pleasing.'_

And, for the most fleeting of seconds, Itachi is utterly disoriented. He feels nothing pleasing about this morning so far – not the too-salty smell in the air, reminiscent of fish markets, the cold sunlight; the stiffness of his muscles after spending so long pressed against the rock floor and wall—

But then his mind catches up to the very new sensation of something warmer and pink-haired practically nuzzling her nose against the defined line of his cheekbone.

Yes, that would fit the description of said adjective quite nicely.

"Itachi," Sakura keeps repeating softly, over and over again. "Are you awake?"

Much to his intense horror, Itachi actually finds himself displaying a revolting lack of coherence as he mumbles something indistinct and tries to wrap an arm around his lover and pull her closer.

Sakura's resulting laugh as she evades him _more_ than injures his pride – even though Itachi still is not quite fully awake. "Go back to sleep," she tells him, smoothing a few locks of silky, raven-black hair behind his ear, and savoring the dizzyingly novel experience of Itachi even allowing her to perform such a simple, yet intensely intimate, gesture. Even though he cracks one eye open and narrows it at her in a silent (yet somehow unconvincing) warning, the pink-haired kunoichi just gives him an irrepressible smile. "When you're ready to wake up…I'll be out on the beach, all right?"

Itachi closes his eyes again and mumbles something else, and Sakura takes a deep breath, before standing up, stretching a few more times, and making her way out of the cave.

The worn path down the side of the cliff is narrow and steep, unkempt enough so that even the sole of her boots slides a little on the surface. But it is worth it when she reaches the pale sands of the beach – it is scattered with coral skeletons, sharp edges everywhere, the shards of a few broken bottles, and seashells galore. Normally, Sakura would take her time to explore everything and pick out the prettiest shells from the debris, but now, she has more important things on her mind.

The surf is calm, lapping gently onto the sands, and Sakura follows the beach for a long while, feeling her boots sink into the slightly warm sand and patiently waiting for a clearer patch to present itself. Despite the fact that she and Itachi had, in essence, finally come to an understanding last night, her stomach is still twisting up in nervous, agitated knots. She doesn't know what to think – to tell the truth, she barely even remembers _how_ to.

In all honesty, Sakura is…a little scared, and she cannot help but wish – desperately, intensely, so much that she can just wrap her arms around her waist and hug herself tight, pretending that they are another's arms – for her mother. Or even Ino or Tsunade-shishou or Shizune; for _any_ other woman who she can trust and who loves her in some way, but—

_You've gotten through the past eleven months alone, haven't you? _Sakura reminds herself mercilessly, forcing herself to regain her usual composure. _You can do this, too._

And she slowly unzips her crimson vest, tugging the tiny metal tag from her collarbone to the bottom of her shirt, with hands that are trembling somewhat. Sakura tosses it aside, so that it lands in a small heap on the sand, and looks down at herself, unable to keep from biting her lip.

It takes minimal effort to bring the requisite chakra to her right hand, and Sakura closes her eyes for a moment, before placing the hand on her stomach. And she inhales and exhales deeply, and, finally, begins.

-

When Itachi wakes up for the second time, it is at least an hour later, judging from the changes in sunlight. At first, he drowsily reaches for the formerly Sakura-occupied place at his side, before suddenly remembering what she had said to him at some point earlier in the morning. He is unsure as to why she would suddenly be struck by an urge to explore the seashore, but…that is just the kind of frivolous, nonsensical act that Sakura would perform for fun, after all, which may be a sign that things are returning to normal with her – and between them.

He stretches a few times, finger-combs his hair, and executes a flawless summoning jutsu in order to prepare his customary cup of morning tea, before finally making his way down to the shore to join her. The beach is empty for miles, littered with debris from the ocean and desolate in every sense of the word, and it takes a few moments for Itachi to finally pick out the distant form of his partner. She is far away, just a dot of pink and red on the horizon, and he has to admit that the feel of the light breeze and cool sunshine against his skin is nearly pleasant, as he makes his way over to her. Sakura is sitting at the very edge of the surf; her knee-high boots unzipped and tossed aside, allowing the foamy edge of the aquamarine waves to just barely lap over her ankles.

Sakura gives Itachi a strangely colorless look as she looks up at him, before gently patting the sand next to her. The thought of sitting on something so unrefined is a little bit distasteful, but Itachi obliges silently, careful to keep his legs as far away from the waves as possible. He discreetly observes the kunoichi at his side as he does this – Sakura is visibly preoccupied; she has a small, somewhat misshapen and textured seashell in her hands, and she keeps running her fingers over it nervously, biting her lip as she does so.

It is only too obvious that she is completely ill at ease about something, but Itachi just waits patiently, their arms barely brushing against the other's with each breath that they take. For a long time, the only sound on the deserted stretch of beach is the seagulls and the rush of the water, but then Sakura lets all of the breath leave her body in one long sigh, before flinging the seashell as far as she can, out into the open ocean.

She can feel Itachi's somewhat startled gaze on her, but Sakura only closes her eyes for a fraction of a second, looking blankly into the ripples created by her seashell.

"I'm not pregnant," she mumbles, keeping her gaze fixated on the sea.

If Itachi had been any other man, he would have fallen over as a result of the sheer shock of her words.

As it is, though, one of his hands freezes almost comically in the midst of brushing a disarrayed strand of hair behind his ear. "…Pardon?" Itachi asks, feeling his heart skip a beat. Sakura remains silent, though, and he fixes her with a sharply narrowed gaze, because he was under the impression that she 'had it under control', as she had stated yesterday, and – for the kami's sake, why does she sound nearly _sad _about the fact that she does?

He states this in a bluntly matter-of-fact tone, except for the latter half, and Sakura blinks a few times, staring down at the sand. "I thought the technique that Tsunade-shishou taught me had failed," she replies, forcing her tone to remain as even as possible. "She said that there was a one percent margin of error – nothing is perfect. And you were right…I was craving foods, and feeling nauseous, and my emotions have been all over the place of late."

Itachi is quiet, waiting for her to continue; she cannot read the expression on his face, and honestly, Sakura is not even sure that she wants to try, as she draws abstract patterns into the sand with her fingers, focusing on the words that she is about to say, and _not _her feelings. "Today was the first physical I've taken in…a year? It turns out that the cravings for certain foods were caused because I'm deficient in about four different vitamins – all of which were present in the foods that I was craving. The nausea was caused by ulcers brought on by stress, which explains the emotional stuff as well." Her voice loses its coolly clinical tone for a moment, and Sakura has to cough to mask the sudden tightness in her throat. "The technique is still completely intact; everything was a horrible misdiagnosis on my part."

The words sound hollow, and Itachi only closes his eyes, trying to remember how to think in a straight line – but everything keeps coming back to the completely irrational fact that Sakura sounds as miserable now, as she was when she first told him the story about how her childhood dog had died. As far as Itachi is concerned, the only way that she should sound this choked up is if the tears in question were tears of happiness, which most definitely does not look like the case in this situation. Because _no_ teenage kunoichi in their right mind (especially one as incredibly intelligent, powerful, and promising as Sakura is, no less) could ever _want_ to have the child of a socially stigmatized S-class criminal and Akatsuki member like him – to be bonded to him in such an irrevocable, permanent fashion. Not when she much likely has an infinitely brighter future ahead of her.

The very prospect is enough to make his head spin, and Itachi takes a deep breath. "Why?" he asks, trying his best to keep his tone as tightly controlled as possible.

Sakura blinks, trying to focus her thoughts. "Why, what?"

Itachi gives her a look that is almost pained; this, in combination with their interaction last night, has left him in a state where feeling any kind of significant emotion is nearly causing physical pain. "Why do you sound like that?"

For a little while, Sakura doesn't know what to say, as she absentmindedly picks up another seashell and begins tracing its ridged, rough contours with her fingertips. "I feel crazy for saying this," she warns, rubbing her fingertip against a sharp edge of the shell and pressing it deeper into the pad of her finger. Even saying the words feels strangely unnatural against her throat. "But it would have been…the easy way out." She laughs a little bitterly, rubbing her bare foot into the damp sand. "I mean, I know; being a teenage mother to _your _kid, of all people—" and Sakura pauses, giving her partner a somewhat sheepish look. "No offense."

"None taken," Itachi replies dryly.

"…It would hardly be easy," Sakura completes, sighing somewhat. "But it would be easier than _this._ Than…the war, and all the political intrigue, and being torn between you and Naruto. I don't like admitting that…a baby…would have given me an excuse to escape everything, and an easier way out of this entire situation, but it's the truth." She gives him a slightly ironic smile. "The future that you painted for us – living peacefully, far away from everything that's going on…it was so nice. And even if Jiraiya or anybody from Konoha found out what was going on, nobody could ask me to kill the father of my child."

Itachi almost says that he once _thought _that nobody could ask him to murder his entire family in cold blood, either, but he holds his tongue.

"It wasn't all for practical reasons, either," Sakura admits, after a while, scraping her seashell against the sand. "I have no idea what my future is going to be like – if – _when _– Naruto takes Konoha back. I don't know when that's going to happen, and I don't even want to think about how much will have changed by that point. But your idea was so…sweet. Peaceful. It was something that I could see myself being happy with."

"And even any security that I could offer you would be better than the prospect of the unknown, correct?" Itachi murmurs quietly, even though he feels just _incredibly _unsettled – but in a distinctly pleasant way – at the surprising knowledge that Sakura would ever consider sharing herself with him in such a long-term manner.

Sakura nods, a little abashed. "I guess – and I know my reasons for wanting one are all wrong, but, I mean…having a baby…we could have learned to take care of it and love it, and it would have been an escape from all of these complications and issues. Like, at least _we _would know that something good would have come out of all the terrible things that have happened since Danzou took over." She smoothes her hair out against her collarbone, detachedly watching the next wave break over her legs. "…And it would have kept us together, of course," she finishes softly.

Itachi blinks, and Sakura gives him a little, humorless smirk at the semi-confused expression on his face, before taking his hand and intertwining their fingers together. "Because sometimes, love isn't always enough, right?" she asks, sounding a lot farther away than just a few inches away from him.

Itachi cannot help but think of Shisui then, just as surely as he thinks that Sakura is thinking of Sasuke, but he wraps an arm around Sakura nevertheless, gently pulling her closer to him. The sun is a little bit warmer now, but she tucks her knees against his, still, resting her head on his shoulder. "No," Itachi responds softly, tracing an abstract pattern against the small of her back. "Sometimes it is not."

-

They spend the next hour exchanging slow, languorous kisses, interspersed with some rather serious conversation. "What would be the best way to do it?" Sakura asks, sounding utterly focused, even as she tilts her neck back, allowing her partner better access to the sensitive skin there.

Similarly, Itachi does not allow the detached professionalism of his tone to waver in the least, while slowly trailing a line of nibbling kisses down the side of her neck. "Outright combat, by way of genjutsu or physical engagement, is a possible option," he muses aloud, placing his hands on Sakura's shoulders and easing her closer. "Madara is a weakened, pathetic shell of the shinobi that he once was, but—"

"It would be dangerous to underestimate him, nevertheless," Sakura completes, resting her forehead against the cool, slashed metal of his forehead protector. She frowns in thought, tilting her head a little in order to kiss Itachi on the cheek. "Poison seems like a safer option – you could get really hurt in outright combat with Madara."

Itachi smirks a little, despite the gravity of the situation, before nuzzling lightly against her ear. "Why, Sakura, are you worrying about me?"

In response to the quiet, silkily phrased question, Sakura scowls, before burying her elbow in his ribs and rather ruining the mood. "Don't be conceited, Uchiha – I am _so _not worrying about you. I just think it would be an infinitely preferable option for both of us." She bites her lip, obviously thinking hard. "Poison…"

"Would you purchase it?" Itachi responds seriously, trying to remember the sources that Sasori had used to procure his poisons. "There are a decent amount of black markets that specialize in such things on the east coast of Lightning."

Sakura shakes her head absentmindedly, before looking back at him. "Those have been fermenting in the bottles for kami knows how long. They're still going to be effective, of course, but we need a poison that is as potent, lethal, and fast-acting as possible. There are some that take effect immediately, but if you want that, then the ingredients have to be completely fresh."

Itachi raises an eyebrow, somewhat taken aback. "I was not aware that poisons were your area of expertise."

Sakura shrugs with one shoulder, looking off into the sea. "They're really not, but in order to heal poison victims, you have to possess a really good textbook knowledge of the poisons themselves – and Shizune taught me how to make a few as well…just in case."

Itachi makes a small sound of assent in the back of his throat, re-adjusting his arm around her waist. "What sort of ingredients will you require?"

"I can buy a few of the chemicals that I'm going to need," Sakura responds quietly, propping her hand up on her chin and thinking back to her lessons with Shizune. "And I'll need to harvest a good amount of fresh, really young nightshade, unprocessed cassava, castor oil plant, moonseed, aconitum, and white snakeroot."

Itachi easily recognizes the names from the medical textbooks that he has read for recreational value, but he cannot remember the locations that each of them are native to, and he frowns a little, the suddenly cool wind stirring his hair. "Where do you intend to acquire these?" he asks, intrigued.

Sakura waves a hand at him nonchalantly. "Oh, on the way to Rain, of course," she replies, trying to keep her tone as casual and offhanded as possible, because maybe then he will remain disarmed enough to not—

Itachi stiffens drastically, before pulling away from her. "Pardon?" he asks coolly. "You are most definitely not accompanying me, Sakura. You will gather the ingredients and brew the poison, and _I _will transport it to Rain and find a way to use it against Madara."

For her part, Sakura just gives him a deadpan look, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him. "_Excuse_ me?" she responds, equally coldly. "You did not just say what I think you said – I am _not _going to sit on my ass and do nothing while _you_ perform the second greatest assassination attempt in recent history."

Itachi only returns her glare twofold, the gesture made twice as intimidating by the crimson-and-black of his bloodline limit – and he cannot help but remember the hauntingly visceral, physical threat that Madara had made on Sakura's life… "You have no appreciation for how dangerous this exploit is going to be," he continues, attempting to keep his voice as calm and impassive as possible.

It was most definitely the wrong thing to say.

"Oh, _forgive _me," Sakura replies immediately, her tone fairly dripping sarcasm, as she flings an arm out dramatically and nearly backhands him in the face as she does so. "Because, you know, it's not like I'm an _A-ranked kunoichi_, or anything. It's not like facing _you_ in combat with my team, back when you tried to stop us from retrieving Gaara, was _dangerous _in any way, right? Hell, don't even get me started on fighting Sasori – yeah, that was just like a little picnic in the park with freaking _cake_—"

Itachi closes his eyes, feeling the beginnings of a headache starting to come on. "Sakura…"

Sakura preempts his statement by poking one finger into his chest rather hard, still glaring at him vehemently as she does so. "I think I understand what you're trying to do, in your twisted, backward little way," she says disdainfully, but the tone of her voice is beginning to be undermined by the tiny smile that is fighting to claim control of her lips. "I assure you that it's touching. It's pretty damn cute. But I would also like to remind you that I could probably cause a massive, island-eating tidal wave by standing up, walking about five feet out into the sea, and stomping on the ocean floor really hard." Sakura pauses, tilting her head to the side a little and finally giving in to her smile as she reaches over and wraps an arm around his shoulders, toying with his long ponytail and savoring the rather displeased look on Itachi's face. "But if you wanted somebody who would just sit back and let you protect them," the pink-haired kunoichi states softly, before leaning in and kissing him on the cheek. "…In that case, you chose the wrong girl, Uchiha. We're in this together."

Kami. Arrogant, overconfident, far too self-reliant, mildly egotistical, defiant, severely lacking in a decent self-preservation sense, damn _loyal _even if it proved to be dangerous to herself…

In that second, Sakura reminds him so much of Shisui that it _hurts_.

For the briefest moment, Sakura sees something slight and indescribable shift within her partner's gaze, and then, before she can even blink, Itachi's fingers tangle in her hair and pull her into a long, searing kiss that leaves her breathless.

"There was never any danger of that," he breathes into her ear, finally, as they are catching their breath.

Itachi feels Sakura's lips curve into a triumphant smirk, against his neck. "Does that mean you agree with me?" she asks pointedly.

He shouldn't do this. He shouldn't put Sakura in any kind of position where there is even the slightest chance of harm; damn it, he should have learned his lesson the first time around, with what had happened with Shisui, whose death _was _– contrary to what she had thought – completely avoidable.

But, on the other hand, it is more than likely that Sakura will simply refuse to let him become embroiled in such a situation _without _her.

Itachi feels the breath leave his body in a long, exhausted sigh. "Very well," he replies shortly, the tone of his voice making it clear that he is not in the least pleased by this.

Sakura is thoroughly unaffected by it, though, and she pulls back, beaming in satisfaction, before easily extricating herself from their half-embrace and springing to her feet, holding a hand out to him, which Itachi accepts somewhat reluctantly. "Good. Now, _come on. _We need to start as soon as possible – it should take about a week and a half for us to travel to Rain, and that's not even counting the time it's going to take to harvest the ingredients for the poison…"

Itachi casts a somewhat jaundiced eye at his partner, who seems quite content to drag him along the beach by the hand as she absentmindedly outlines her tentative plans for the operation. He is fairly sure that it is not normal for girls her age to get so very excited about the prospect of brewing the most lethal poison humanly possible, but, well – it is Sakura, after all, and she has her own personal reasons for desperately wanting Madara dead.

And Itachi attempts to reassure himself that it _will _be fine. All he has to do is logically deduce a way to best use this poison to assassinate Madara without arousing the shinobi in question's lethal suspicions…as well as executing the nearly equally difficult task of keeping Sakura safe. Which is infinitely harder than it sounds, seeing as the girl just seems to attract any and every kind of trouble.

Still, Itachi cannot help but think that, after so many years of facing every challenge completely alone…having somebody – having _Sakura _– by his side will be completely preferable to the alternative.

-

It takes Itachi and Sakura two weeks to make their way to Rain.

On one hand, they are two of the most difficult weeks she has experienced in recent memory. Sakura has to find a desolate, deserted field of nightshade and harvest one hundred blossoms at exactly two in the morning, once. On another instance, she has to physically climb a thorny cassava tree with the roughest and damn itchiest bark that she has ever felt in her life, in order to pluck exactly five of the ripest fruits from the highest branches – and then, she stays up for the next two hours painstakingly extracting all the juices from them and placing it into little vials. Getting oil out of a castor plant is one of the most tedious and lengthy curing processes _ever, _and the processes of finding absolutely perfect specimens of moonseed, aconitum, and white snakeroot, are all just as mind-numbingly horrifying, in their own separate ways.

Sakura's wrists go numb from stirring the poison solution clockwise and counter-clockwise one hundred times at the precise stroke of each hour, and her hands begin to acquire a permanently chemical-ish scent from all the distilling, measuring, and general handling of _those _separate ingredients. But at the same time, she is happy, because every painstaking hour that she spends working on her poison means that – even though it definitely isn't what Jiraiya had suggested, because more often than not, Itachi is sitting up with her, giving her company throughout the night and sometimes rubbing her shoulders when they get too stiff – it is hours that she spends helping Naruto. Helping save his life, and hopefully stopping him from becoming a victim of this power-hungry megalomaniac's machinations.

At the same time, though, the two weeks somehow perversely manages to be strangely…calming, in the time that Sakura spends with Itachi between and during working with her pet poison. She could have never imagined that having a relationship with him would be _this _incredibly mind-blowing and fulfilling and simultaneously soothing and all kinds of pleasant adjectives. It's the little things, mostly – the subtle, constant companionship he offers her; even when he most definitely doesn't have to, Itachi stays up through the night with her, helping her in any way that he can, like the one time when he helped her peel the rough skin off the cassava fruits. Sometimes, he just lurks in the background reading his angsty Shakespearean poetry, but somehow manages to appear at her side whenever Sakura feels achy all over and just about to fall asleep over her medical textbooks – although, still, she had nearly choked to death with shock during the first time that Itachi had placed his hands on her shoulders and gently, if a little awkwardly, began to give her a slow massage.

And, no matter how tired they are, by the early morning hours that Sakura usually finishes up at whatever makeshift office table she has created for herself, she and Itachi usually spend a glorious total of half an hour kissing each other goodnight before falling asleep, curled securely against one another. She actually finds it surprising that they manage to argue and clash as much as ever, but still, _together_, they somehow manage to work better than she could have ever possibly believed.

Properly navigating a relationship is still, too obviously, painfully new to Itachi, but Sakura cannot help but feel that he is _very _slowly getting used to it. Once, when they had been making their way through one of the small border towns near the areas where white snakeroot was known to grow, they had passed this elderly vendor, selling gorgeous white orchids, and Sakura couldn't help but stop and stare at them, and at the gorgeous jeweled hairclips that each was attached to. But then, totally out of _nowhere_, while they were one street away and Sakura had immersed herself in the map, Itachi had mysteriously vanished, and reappeared a few minutes later with one of the pale blossoms, and hairclips. He kind of forced it into her hand and mumbled something totally incoherent, staring at a fixed spot far above her head, and to make matters even worse, when Sakura had asked him to, Itachi had completely failed at pinning it into her hair, instead tangling the pink locks into an unmanageable mess – which was only made weirder by the fact that it was topped by a lopsided orchid.

Still, Sakura had dragged Itachi behind an adequately proportioned building at the soonest opportunity, roughly pushed him against the wall, and then literally pounced on him in one of their most enthusiastic kisses yet; raking her fingers through his hair and wrapping one leg around his hips as she did so. She had scraped her knee against the rough brick of the wall and it hurt for a few minutes afterward, but at the same time – just like every aspect of their relationship – it had been so very worth it.

-

_Two Weeks Later_

-

It is raining.

Sakura curls the large vial of pale purple liquid close to her chest in order to keep it as warm and dry as possible, before looking around desperately. "Itachi," she fairly squeaks, just _knowing _that her hair is standing on end from all the time she has spent running her fingers through it nervously. "Please tell me that the temperature is not less than fifty degrees."

"It is not," Itachi replies calmly, as he carefully observes the downpour from their spot of relative safety, huddled together under the limited cover provided by an abandoned outdoor ramen bar.

Sakura sighs deeply, leaning against him in relief. "Good, because the solution won't be as viable if it is exposed to excessively cold temperatures…"

Itachi takes a moment to glance down at the contents of the vial, frowning in thought, even as he wraps an arm around her reassuringly. "Why is it that color?" he asks tersely. "It needs to be completely clear – or at least enough to be undetectable if dissolved into a shotglass of sake."

"It just needs a few more minutes to settle," Sakura replies absentmindedly, bringing the vial close to her eyes and shaking it the tiniest bit. "I did add that extra bit of castor oil this morning, just to be safe."

They spend the next ten minutes in silence, watching the rainfall slow down, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Sakura's gaze keeps drifting to that dilapidated, washed-out wooden sign, just about twenty feet away from them down the thoroughly mud-splattered dirt road.

_You are now entering Rain_,_ indeed, _she thinks sardonically, sharp eyes watching the purple pigment slowly beginning to vanish. Rain – the real Akatsuki stronghold; the place that has long been far too dangerous for any Konoha shinobi to even set foot in. Out of all the other countries, this is the one that has always been a relative mystery. Saying that the prospect of entering Rain _doesn't _unsettle her and send chills down her spine would be a blatant, disgusting lie.

There are so many of her fears, here, beyond that faded sign. The Akatsuki, which she has always feared and hated – and _still _does, despite the insignia that is branded onto the cloak that her lover wears. The unseen, faraway menaces that, for so long, have seemed determined to hurt everybody that she loves. She is entering enemy territory and, contrary to the brave words she had practically yelled at Itachi when he had suggested that she _not _accompany him, Sakura is just a little scared. Of them, of the darkness, the unknown…of something, anything, going wrong; of Madara, and all the horrors that he is capable of committing.

But still, this is her chance to do something really significant for the war effort. With the large vial that she holds in her right hand, she can eliminate the greatest threat to her best friend's life.

_No_, Sakura amends, closing her eyes. She and _Itachi_ can eliminate the greatest threat to Naruto's life.

And then, when the time was right, she can see what Jiraiya would say about _that. _

The pink-haired kunoichi takes a deep breath and holds it for the slightest of moments. _It's going to be all right._

Itachi's reverie is interrupted by the feeling of Sakura's arm brushing against his, and he glances down at her; she smiles a little, holding the now-completely clear solution up to him. "It's ready," she informs him, forcing her tone to stay as brave and calm as possible.

Itachi is surprised by the fact that he has to inhale and exhale a few times in order to properly regain his composure; he feels impossibly tense from the inside out, with each of his nerves set completely on edge. The rain has dulled into a light mist, by the time the two of them step out of their makeshift shelter, Sakura carefully tucking the vial into the small shuriken pouch strapped to her upper thigh.

The road ahead is concealed by the customary, dense gray fog that seems to always cloud this particular area of the world, and for a moment, Itachi and Sakura just stop and stare.

Itachi is unsure of which one of them reaches for the other first, or whether it had been mutual, but then their fingers are intertwining together, and they are holding hands a little bit awkwardly. This is not the first time that they have supported one another like this, but it is still a novel feeling that he needs to get used to.

"Ready?" Sakura breathes, at last.

Itachi says nothing, his eyes darkening somewhat, but with one gentle tug at her fingers, Sakura easily falls into step with him, the expression in her gaze as determinedly resolute as it always is.

And they walk into Rain, together.

* * *

_to be continued_

* * *

Well, I hope that cleared some stuff up. :)

Again, thank you so much to everybody who left comments on the previous chapter – and, as always, any feedback for this one would be very much appreciated. :D


	17. Mortal Combat

_As always, thank you so much to everybody who was phenomenal enough to review. :)_

_Warning: The latter part of this chapter includes depictions of graphic and somewhat disturbing violence and themes. _

_-_

_Chapter Seventeen: Mortal Combat_

_-_

"Act natural."

The two simple, quietly spoken words make Sakura's muscles tense even more, as she risks a terse glance up at the dark-cloaked man at her side. "I _am_," she hisses back, keeping her gaze fixed firmly on a particularly large stormcloud that is an even darker shade of gray than its counterparts.

"No," Itachi murmurs, his lips barely moving. "You most certainly are not. Even the most uneducated civilian shopkeeper who looks out of these windows would immediately realize that you are a rogue element who presents some sort of threat. Pretend that you belong here – _not _that you distrust any and everything related to Rain."

Sakura stops dead in her path, turning around to glare at him sharply, but then Itachi places one hand on the small of her back, effortlessly guiding her along with him. Every one of her muscles is tightened and taut underneath his hand, and he can practically feel the incredibly rapid pounding of her heart. The tiny gesture, and the familiarity of the touch, makes Sakura relax a little, though, despite every one of the instincts that are screaming at her to _never _let her guard down while so deep in enemy territory.

"Are you sure—" Sakura manages, through gritted teeth, but Itachi cuts her off with a single shake of his head, even as he gently tugs her out of the way of a particularly vile slough of mud. Rain's roads are unpaved, still, and have been utterly devastated by the recent and violent monsoon storm.

"You have nothing to fear until we approach the Akatsuki headquarters," Itachi assures her firmly, in a tone that brooks no argument. "We entered through the civilian sector for a reason; they are all still taking refuge inside their homes, as a result of the latest storm, and none of them are particularly wise as to the ways of shinobi."

This statement is fairly justified, Sakura supposes, because he is infinitely more familiar with this area than she is and will ever be. She trusts Itachi, of course, but there is something about the civilian sector of Rain that just sends a chill down her spine. For one, it appears abandoned – the buildings are small and unevenly spaced, and made out of either blackened, ancient wood or gray, dirtied cement; every door has solid iron bars locked across the outside, and the windows are all boarded up. It looks like any of the deserted ghost towns that can be found on the west coast of the Fire Country – areas destroyed in the war, that nobody had ever taken the time or effort to rebuild, since the people who lived there had either died in the war or moved on.

Unlike those places, though, Sakura can easily sense the distinctive, small and unharnessed chakra signatures of civilians, lingering within the secluded buildings. It is more than a little unsettling; she cannot shake the feeling of being watched by unseen eyes, even though she cannot seeanybody else on these streets besides herself and Itachi. This sensation is probably just aggravated by the fact that Sakura knows that she is so close to the Akatsuki headquarters, the exact location of which _countless_ teams of Konoha hunter-nin have spent years trying to find out.

As if Itachi has read her most recent thoughts as clearly as if they had been written in a book, he makes a slight sound of displeasure in the back of his throat. "Do not get any ideas, Sakura," he warns, his tone low. "Remember that our…business…is with Madara and nobody else."

Sakura bristles a little; it might be an irrational reaction, but she cannot help but dislike any reminders that, despite this act of treachery, Itachi is still all too affiliated with the rest of the Akatsuki. Namely, the _other _Leader, orange-haired Pein and his partner, the ever-mysterious kunoichi – she can only assume that these two will take full control of Akatsuki after Madara's demise, and Sakura cannot help but hope that they are not replacing one evil with another. "Fine," she replies tersely, as she scans their surroundings. She does not know what the Akatsuki headquarters look like, and, anyway, it is more than likely that the establishment is underground. "Are we close?"

Itachi does not reply for another few minutes, long enough for them to step down a neglected, nearly overgrown side path into a sparse forest, leaving the tiny, dilapidated civilian housing area behind. Everything in Rain is depressingly gray; even though it is not raining, a fine mist of perpetual, chilly and damp moisture hangs in the air, making Sakura shiver and only serving to heighten her feelings of too-tense anxiety even further. Itachi has led her to what seems to be a vast stretch of nothing, large enough to have some sort of enclosure created underneath the ground – which is presumably the answer to her question.

The grass comes up to her knees, here, and the mud is threatening to swallow the soles of her boots, but Sakura just looks up at Itachi inquisitively, unable control the sudden spurt of adrenaline that seems to have raged through her bloodstream. "Is this it?" she asks impatiently.

For a few long moments, his crimson-and-black gaze sweeps the area, coolly cataloguing it. "This is the outskirts, in effect," Itachi finally deigns to reply, although Sakura can hear the miniscule hints of strain and apprehension that are all too obviously already wearing on his psyche. "I am aware that Zetsu, Kisame, Hidan, and Kakuzu are all not present at the moment, but that leaves Pein, Konan, Sasori, and Deidara. We will just avoid the latter two as much as possible – and I cannot predict Pein and Konan's reaction to this, but I am willing to face the repercussions."

"Still," Sakura sighs a little, "it would be better to keep a low profile, I guess." She hesitates, tilting her head thoughtfully, and knowing that for the past two weeks, Itachi has been remotely monitoring the Akatsuki headquarters by way of one of those invisible, genjutsu-concealed shadowy projection-_things_. "It's…ten in the morning. Where would Madara be?"

Itachi inclines his head a fraction of an inch in assent. "For the next hour and a half, he will be in his rooms, performing the restoration jutsu that he has been using to keep himself alive for this long," he replies grimly, unable to keep his composure intact enough to prevent desperately hoping that there is no margin of error in this calculation.

Sakura paces in a tight circle, half-nibbling her fingernails and looking troubled. "You told me about that jutsu before," she thinks aloud. "There's nothing in it that will upset the poison in any way…"

A sudden, cold wind stirs the long grass, making Sakura shiver again and setting Itachi's nerves even more on edge. He is one of the three most skilled shinobi in the history of the Fire Country – a statement that is purely fact, and has nothing to do with any sentiment on his part as trivial as arrogance. Madara happens to be one of the remaining two most powerful, and arguably, has held on to this title; even now, when he is incredibly old, decrepit, and a pathetic shell of his former self. Still, Itachi refuses to allow himself to fall into the dangerous trap of underestimating his opponent, as it can lead to nothing but failure.

He feels Sakura leaning against his arm, then, and when Itachi glances down, she has fixed her large, inordinately worried apple-green gaze on him. For the first time of the entire day, they are a little bit less than completely professional, as Sakura wordlessly presses herself against him, resting her forehead against his shoulder, and in response, Itachi holds her close, gently twining his fingers into her incredibly soft cherry-pink locks and carefully brushing the slowly lengthening strands out. It still surprises him, how calming and reassuring that _he _finds this simple action, even though Sakura is the one who sighs softly in enjoyment of the sensation.

"Are you nervous?" she whispers softly, her face hidden by her hair, as she reaches up to place her hands flat on his shoulders. Absentmindedly, Sakura notices that her mane falls just a little above the middle of her back, now, and she had seriously considered chopping it, just for the intensity of this upcoming conflict.

She can feel the detached movements of her lover's cool, long-boned fingers through the thick strands, though, and even though she will never admit it, it is _this _sensation that had ultimately gotten the better of the above impulse. "Such an inconsequential thing does not matter," Itachi rebuffs mildly, but then his arms tighten around hers for a fraction of a moment. "…Are you?"

This is the first time that he has _ever _asked her about anything to do with a matter even resembling something that could possibly be emotional, and the uncertainty tells in his voice. Still, Sakura is suddenly, completely glad for this tiny little lapse on his part, as she stands on her tiptoes, hugging Itachi tighter. "Kami," she feels the breath leave her body in a long, exhausted sigh; one that mingles with a frustrated, self-deprecating laugh, at her own fears. "You have no idea – I'm so fucking scared that I can barely stand up on my own."

Itachi makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, and Sakura cannot tell if it is amused or sympathetic or something in between. But then his hands are sliding over her back and lower, and before she can even blink, he has easily and effortlessly lifted her legs around his hips, before catching her tighter in his arms and readjusting his hold so that they are eye-to-eye, with her arms wrapped around his neck; his impassive crimson gaze meeting with her stunned emerald one.

Sakura is too shocked to even say a word as Itachi takes a few careful steps forward, until she feels her back collide with the trunk of one of the thin, willowy trees that border the meadow. The bark is rough and cold and wet, but Itachi is so incredibly warm as he leans closer, and, with a tentativeness that belies everything that they have done so far, captures her lips with his own. Kissing him when they are on the same physical level is amazing, yes, but what really takes Sakura's breath away and more than distracts her is the way that he can manage to say _so _much in one simple physical gesture.

Itachi may never verbally say that he loves her. He is not, by any means, the kind of man who would hold her close and, in a situation like this, outright tell her that there is no need to be afraid and that he will protect her and neverlet her get hurt.

Normally, Sakura would take offense to such a statement, anyway. She is a more than capable kunoichi, and she hasn't needed anybody to protect her in a long time. But still, in a situation like this – what kind of person could be getting ready to fight and kill a mortal enemy in a surprise attack that could go horribly wrong in a million different ways, and _not _be scared? – she needs some kind of gentle, tender comfort, and reassurance, and—

Despite everything, she knows, unquestionably, _that_ is exactly what Itachi is giving her.

A couple of minutes – which manage to be simultaneously blissfully long and fartoo short – later, after they finally pull apart and attempt to catch their breath, Sakura closes her eyes for a moment and tries to ignore the ache in her heart as she rests her forehead against the chilled, slashed metal of his forehead protector. "I understand," she says quietly.

Something in Itachi's gaze softens for the most fleeting of seconds. "Good," he murmurs, leaning in again and briefly brushing his lips to her temple.

Reluctantly, Sakura unwraps herself from around him, and once she is firmly on the floor again, she sighs, looking down at the dirt beneath her feet apprehensively. "How are we—"

"I will take care of it," Itachi assures, pulling her close once again – except that this time, it is in preparation to transport both of them into the premises of the headquarters with as much ease as possible. His tone and the touch are more detached than usual, though, and with a slight heaviness in her heart, Sakura knows that _this _is it.

_How will I manage the coup if I'm feeling this ridiculously unsettled just because of Madara_? Sakura asks herself angrily, biting her lip. _Damn it; get yourself together—_

Before she can even attempt finishing the thought, Itachi's fingers tighten around her arm, and all of a sudden, there is some kind of horrible, crushing _pressure_ inside her, and Sakura has to bite back the instant, violent wave of crippling nausea that washes over her body, even as a wall of icy coldness and a sudden chilly draft hits her skin. "It is the security wards," Itachi explains quietly, sounding a lot more faraway and distant than a few inches away from her, even though his hand is warm and nearly reassuring as he rubs it in small circles on her upper back, effortlessly supporting her with the other. "They recognized the foreign signature, but the point where we entered was also the one weaker spot in the barrier defense – which was the only thing preventing your chakra from incinerating your own body from the inside out."

Sakura closes her eyes tighter against the purple, blinding spots that have overwhelmed her vision, before finally managing to open them. The horrible, dizzying feeling of physical illness is still there; numbing her limbs and unsettling her stomach to the point that it takes a conscious effort to keep from throwing up. But still, she forces her eyes to re-focus, her gaze regaining its customary sharpness as she looks around quickly, absorbing every minute detail of her new location and filing it away for future reference.

It is dark and incredibly cold in here; the walls even feel damp, through the thin – albeit chakra-reinforced – wood that insulates it from the soil. She and Itachi are standing in a narrow hallway of some sort, barely even large enough for two people to walk through when standing shoulder-to-shoulder. The only light comes from tiny orbs of blood-red fire that seem to hover at irregular intervals along the top of the hallway, at the sharply shadowed ninety-degree angle where the wall meets the ceiling, and it throws unbelievably eerie shadows all over the area. Apart from these small, somehow sinister lights, there is utter blackness in front of and behind her, and it is making Sakura feel suddenly, inexplicably claustrophobic.

Then, before her stunned gaze, one of the crimson lights – far above them, and a little to the front – changes; becomes punctuated with the three familiar, slashed black tomoe that are the obvious hallmark of the Mangekyou Sharingan. It starts to swirl slightly, watching her in deadly, menacing silence, and Sakura feels herself take an immediate, unconscious step backward, her eyes widening as she does so. In the same movement, Itachi's hands come up to steady her from behind, taking a firm but gentle hold on her shoulders, and even though she knows the feeling of his touch, for a split second, the sudden shock of the contact is enough to make her want to scream.

But then his cool hand is pressing over her mouth, keeping her silent, just in case. "Quiet," Itachi murmurs into Sakura's ear, too quickly for her to even think about reacting. His words are terse and clipped, and for a moment, she can literally sense how stressed he must be. "This is only another one of the headquarters' internal defenses – it is a subtle, mind-altering technique intended to create a crippling sense of fear, enough so that it will paralyze all logical forms of higher thinking and reasoning. It was intended to prevent prisoners from escaping; this technique is not _quite _a genjutsu, and therefore, it cannot be dispelled by anybody except Madara himself. The perimeter still senses you as an unfamiliar presence, and since the building itself is not accustomed to your chakra signature; you are susceptible to the technique. Do you understand?"

Slowly, gradually, the black tomoe fades from the orb of crimson fire, leaving it just that – a light.

Knowing that the vehemence of her emotions is artificial, in essence, helps Sakura make the conscious effort to calm herself a little bit more. Now, she realizes that her heart seems to be pounding like that of its own accord, and the raw, painful tension of every single one of her muscles is not entirely motivated by her mind – rather, by the dark chakra that she can now practically _feel _seeping from the walls. Sakura only manages to soothe her strained nerves a little bit, but at least that strange, screaming sense of panic has been shoved to the very back of her mind. As soon as Itachi judges that her muscles have relaxed enough, he wordlessly releases her. "It will take a conscious effort to keep it at bay," he warns, a few moments later. "If you lose focus for even one moment, the technique will take effect again, and it will do so with even greater and more disabling force."

Sakura nods resolutely, raking one glove-clad hand through her hair and savoring the pain; it only helps her regain a little bit more of her composure – even though she still carefully avoids looking at that particular light, for fear of what she will see there. "All right."

Itachi leads the way down the impossibly dark, narrow space, and Sakura follows one pace behind, unable to keep her gaze from constantly flickering around warily. Her partner seems confident that they will be undisturbed, but she can see the barely concealed tension in the set of his muscles, beneath the cloak – it is a stance of unquestionable power and aggressiveness, and Itachi looks like a coiled, restless panther; more than ready to strike – and kill – at the slightest provocation from an enemy, or even any less-than-completely-friendly outside source.

Sakura can sense no chakra signatures in the immediate vicinity, though; not the volatile flames of the blonde artist, or the darker, more subtle marionette strings of…Sasori. _His _presence here is making her feel just as ill at ease as the impending confrontation with Madara. Nevertheless, even though Sakura knows that the other Akatsuki members must be here somewhere, the hallways are dead silent, except for the distant echo of some slow, steady and rhythmic dripping of water.

The hallway seems endless, and they have been walking for at least ten minutes without stopping. But then, Sakura takes another step forward, just following Itachi, and almost as if they have crossed another unseen perimeter, there is suddenly a deeper, colder chill in the air – and there is no longer any light whatsoever; not even the small crimson orbs of fire that have been lighting their eerie passage thus far. Sakura stops dead as a defense mechanism, one hand instinctively curling up into a fist packed with more than enough chakra to make the Akatsuki headquarters cave into itself. "Itachi?" she snaps, looking back and forth sharply, and desperately reminding herself to _keep_ focused, because the last thing she needs is for the fear-jutsu to take advantage of this sudden spike of adrenaline on her part.

Then, his hand has curled around her wrist, easily guiding her forward. "We have approached Madara's private sector of the headquarters," Itachi murmurs quietly; he seems to know where he is going, although Sakura has the feeling that this is only because of the crimson-and-black light that has bled anew into his eyes. "He enjoys the dark. It is a poorly crafted, unsubtle intimidation technique – do not let it affect you, Sakura."

True enough, it takes her gaze a few more minutes to adjust to the degree of pitch blackness, but then Sakura can make out the red in Itachi's cloak, and the deeper, more menacing areas of darkness that appear to be countless rooms surrounding them – all closed off by heavy, forbidding wooden doors. She squints at the sides of them, looking for any telltale inscriptions, but there are none.

"It was the third conference room, right?" Sakura tries to clarify, seeking any indicators as to their location – partly just trying to keep herself focused on the task at hand. She cannot seem to put aside this horrible, nagging fear that at any moment, she could feel Madara's clawed, icy hand on her shoulder, or that he could just step out of one of these doors and take both of them by surprise—

"Yes," Itachi acquiesces, but then he stops in front of one of the doors, so suddenly that Sakura nearly crashes into him, and absentmindedly, he places a hand on her shoulder to steady her. "This is it."

Sakura really is not sure how Itachi's voice can manage to sound so coldly detached, because just _looking_ at the door and thinking of what lies within – even though she senses no chakra beyond it – is making her fingers threaten to tremble out of sheer apprehension.

It is anticlimactic, really – when Itachi quietly, carefully pulls out a tiny silver key from the inner pocket of his cloak and slides it into the lock. There is the slightest of clicks, and the door falls open of its own accord, and _damn it_, Sakura cannot help but irrationally think that this entire experience feels like nothing more than one of those horror/suspense movies that she, Sai, and Naruto used to love to watch together, all curled up on her old, battered apple-green sofa in her apartment. Except that this, of course, is infinitely more frightening – Sakura can actually hear the blood pounding in her ears as the two of them slink cautiously into the darkened room. There is an incredible force of chakra, more than she has summoned in a long time, hovering and sparking along every inch of her skin and more than ready to be called into use at any moment, but—

The room is also completely empty.

She lets out a breath she hadn't even realized that she was holding, even though Itachi's cold crimson eyes simply sweep the perimeter of the area a few more times. Once he has finally deduced that it is clear, he inclines his head the slightest bit, and then almost absentmindedly flicks the silver key over his shoulder to her. "Lock the door."

The key is too cold in Sakura's hand, and the lock makes a slightly eerie, echoing _click_ as she slides it in and turns it ever so slightly, before returning to Itachi's side and surveying their surroundings wordlessly. It had likely been the deceptive security of the act of locking the door behind them, but most of that despicable sense of being _scared_ is starting to fade away, leaving a tightly drawn, professional wariness in its place. Excellent compartmentalization skills are a crucial part of being a kunoichi, and even though she has hated this before (because it's really not good to think too much about the fact that there were some days that she would spend hunting down and killing other people in cold blood, before heading back home and spending the night lightheartedly making cookies, painting nails, and being generally giggly in the company of Ino and Tenten), now, Sakura cannot help but feel grateful for this…adaptation, of sorts.

Her night vision has never been all that exceptional, and it takes her gaze a moment to fix on the details of the room. It is large and expansive; dominated by a sleek, long rectangular table in the center. There is a tiny side table pushed into the other side of the cavernous space, scattered with a few small, desolate and burnt-out candles. Otherwise, the room seems bare – save for the tall bottle of sake on the far side of the table. There is even a tiny glass next to it, and the two items draw Sakura's undivided attention for what seems like a long time.

"It's too perfect," she muses thoughtfully. "It's like they're just sitting there and waiting for some enemy shinobi to come along and pour poison into it."

Itachi makes a small sound of assent in the back of his throat as he joins in her observation. "I would be inclined to believe that were the case, as well," he replies, at length. "However, I have observed that Madara has a tendency to do this. He opens one new bottle every morning; he will partake in a slight amount, before leaving this room for the hour and a half requisite to perform the restoration technique. After that is completed, he simply returns here and drinks a little bit more, before he resumes business as usual."

Sakura sighs, pushing a few locks of hair out of her face impatiently as she continues to eye the drink with suspicion. "Still, it means that we're going to have to be in here to watch him drink it – just in case. I really don't like that option; it leaves too much room for something to go wrong, but it's going to be too risky on our part to poison it now, leave and hide out in the city for a few more days, and _then _return to see if he did or did not die from drinking the sake…"

Itachi's eyes narrow a fraction of an inch. "_I _am going to have to be in here to watch him drink it," he corrects coolly. "After planting the poison, I will walk us back to my private quarters, where _you_ will stay and not venture from, under any circumstances. I will then return here, and I will retrieve you once the operation has been successfully completed."

Sakura rolls her eyes a little, knowing that arguing with him will serve no purpose – she has her own plans to the contrary, and there is no need for Itachi to know those. "Sure," she replies casually, reaching into the small pouch around her upper thigh, where she had slid the vial earlier.

Her pursuit is interrupted by the sudden, startling feeling of Itachi's fingers curling around her wrist in a grip that is almost painful, before pulling her closer and forcing her to look up at him. Before any thought beyond the initial shock can even flit through the pink-haired kunoichi's mind, Itachi steps forward a few paces, effectively cornering her, with her back to the table. Instinctively, Sakura attempts to extricate herself from the precarious position, twisting against his wrist to no avail, but Itachi does this so fast that she doesn't even have time to blink. And then, the words die in her throat, because he is _glaring _at her, and in all honesty, she had forgotten just how intimidating and dangerous he could be.

Her throat is dry, and then Itachi is curling his hand around the back of her neck, forcing her to meet his gaze, and Sakura _does not like it. _His hold on her is not painful, but it is resting over two pressure points that could temporarily paralyze if struck correctly, and she just manages to glare at him. "What are you—"

Itachi tightens his grip just a little, locking his gaze with hers. "Sakura," he murmurs, sounding deadly serious. "You have no idea what is at stake; you cannot even begin to comprehend the dangers of this situation. And, just this once, you _will _listen to me."

She cannot even pretend that the tone of his voice doesn't send decidedly unpleasant shivers down her spine. Itachi never gets this way with her, and Sakura knows that he would never purposely try to intimidate her unless he had a real reason for it.

"Fine," she replies shortly, and to her pleasure, her voice is completely steady.

Itachi's purple-painted thumbnail strokes her carotid artery once, his gaze clinically searching hers for any sign of untruth, and Sakura forces herself to _not _hold her breath.

Finally, Itachi withdraws, just enough to give her room to breathe, although his crimson eyes are still shadowed with suspicion. "Very well," he returns curtly, continuing to watch her like a hawk. "You may proceed."

Sakura makes sure that her expression is utterly neutral, as she places a hand on her partner's chest and gently pushes him out of her way, before slinking over to the other side of the long table. It gives her a slight chill, knowing that the chair that her hip is resting against is the same one that Madara – evil personified – sits in every day. That her gloved fingers are fumbling against the same path that Madara's traced against this morning, as he opened this very same bottle of sake.

The silence between them is heavy and oppressive, even though Sakura can feel Itachi's presence just an inch away from her, at her back. He knows that her gloves will leave no prints, and Sakura's chakra signature is completely masked – even to Madara, there is no sign that would give away the barest hint of an outsider's presence.

Sakura carefully places the stopper of the bottle down on the table, before reaching down and finally pulling out the vial of poison. She pulls out _that _stopper, lifting the lethal mixture to her nose and inhaling slightly. Despite the variety of herbal and chemical mixtures that had gone into it, the liquid has no color whatsoever – and it is totally scentless, as well; even an Inuzuka would be unable to detect it.

"Ready?" Sakura asks, a little surprised as to how detached and impassive her voice sounds. She has never assassinated by way of poison before, and she thought that it would affect her more.

Itachi only nods silently, his eyes coldly resolute, and Sakura closes her eyes for the briefest of moments, before pulling the bottle of sake close and aligning it with the tip of the vial.

_For you, Naruto._

The slightest incline of her wrist, and then the deadly concoction is sinking into the depths of the sake, creating the slightest trail of bubbles as it goes. For a brief moment, the sake pales a few degrees, but then slowly returns to its normal color, and unconsciously, both Sakura and Itachi exhale at the same time as Sakura shakily places the stopper back on the vial of poison, placing it back into its small pouch, before settling the stopper on the bottle of sake. She precisely returns it to the exact spot that it had sat in, before, so that even somebody with a photographic memory would not have been able to tell if something was amiss.

Itachi is the first to break the silence, and Sakura can hear the almost ragged breath he takes immediately before; it is clear that the enormity of what they have just done has hit him first. "Is that enough?" he asks quietly – she had only poured half of the vial of poison into the bottle.

Sakura shrugs with one shoulder, unable to tear her gaze away from the poisoned bottle. "It's enough to kill an army within a few minutes or less," she replies calmly.

Her contemplations are finally interrupted by a light tug on her upper arm, and Sakura turns around quickly. The sight of Itachi's crimson-and-black bloodline limit, something that she had finally developed the ability to gaze into without fear – now, again, in a backdrop of such utter darkness, it makes her blood run cold. His face is completely devoid of emotion as he lightly lifts her off the edge of the table, setting her feet on the floor again. "It most definitely is not a lack of faith in your drink-poisoning abilities – but I believe that taking some precautions is in order."

Sakura blinks at the cryptic words, but she follows Itachi nevertheless. At first, it simply looks like he is stepping up to the far back wall of the room – she cannot quite tell; everything is so dark – but _then _he pulls out the little key again, sliding into a keyhole that she can't seem to see. "Is that—" Sakura asks immediately, standing on the tips of her toes and craning her neck, her curiosity already aroused.

Itachi wordlessly pulls the door to the hidden compartment open, and the slight gesture proves to be all the answer that Sakura needs.

It is, essentially, an aged wooden cabinet, hidden by genjutsu. It is undoubtedly a complex technique, but the specifics of it cease to fascinate Sakura, as the contents of the cupboard draw her undivided attention. They are two katana, weapons that look exactly like they could be used by Konoha's ANBU forces – and of such obviously excellent quality that they would actually make Tenten, the village's only weapons specialist, weep tears of pure, unadulterated joy.

"That belongs to Madara," Itachi inclines his head toward the first of the two swords; the slightly curved, single edge and slender blade is a few centimeters longer than the other, but the most obvious difference between the two that Sakura can find is that the grip on Madara's is embellished in midnight-blue and gold, while the other's is just plain, simple black.

"So…" she nods toward the one on the bottom, biting her lip uncertainly. "That's…yours?"

Itachi's eyes are shadowed darker with memories that Sakura cannot – and does not – want to read, as he slowly reaches out, easily lifting the katana in his right hand and drawing it toward himself. He rotates his wrist slightly, observing the blade…and although the metal is a sharp, clear silver, Sakura knows that both of them are envisioning the same thing – blood, too much blood, all belonging to each and every member of his clan (save for one), coating it to the handle and dripping off the tip of the blade.

It is the first time that he has held this weapon, since that night, and it still fits perfectly into his hand. It is likely a psychological reaction more than anything else, but the heavy weight of the blade in his hand is making Itachi feel more than a little ill. These are memories that he has tried to suppress for six agonizingly long years, but now he feels them all over again; painful, gory details that are making part of him scream on the inside—

—_the sick sound and soft impact of deadly, cold metal stabbing through unprotected flesh and organs; the look of shock in his father's dying eyes and his mother's sob for mercy—_

"_Itachi-kun, put it down," she pleads, her fingers tugging on his arm desperately, even as she tries to put as much distance between her body and the katana as possible. "Please. You're scaring me. You don't have to do this._"

For a few dizzying moments, he is unsure as to whether it is his mother or Sakura talking, but then there is the icy, unmistakable feeling of several shots of calming chakra sent straight into his arm, from the small hand pressed firmly into the crook of his elbow, and, very slowly, everything begins to come into focus again. "Put it down," she repeats, her tone as calming and professional as she can make it, even though the wideness of her eyes belies that. "You don't have to hold it – you don't even have to look at it. Just give it to me and I'll put it back for you."

The idea of _touching_ it is repulsive and abhorrent and it makes Sakura a little nauseous, but she would rather put herself through a little discomfort than let Itachi fall victim to all those undoubtedly damaging memories, all over again. But he shakes his head very slightly, keeping a firm hold on the blade, before nodding to her concealed vial of poison bluntly. "Six years ago, I murdered my entire family, save for two, with this weapon," he murmurs. "And now, _I _will finish what I should have done a long time ago."

The statement makes her more than a little uncomfortable, because this is the aspect of Itachi that Sakura constantly tries to just _forget _ever existed. That, even though it was a mission, he still—

Suddenly, irrationally, she wonders if he killed his first lover, too – the black-haired one that apparently looked just like she does.

It makes Sakura a little sick.

But still, she pulls out the vial of poison from her pouch, her fingers trembling a little, even though she attempts a tiny smile, just to calm both of them down somewhat. "The fight in the last act and scenes of _Hamlet_, right?" Sakura tries to remember. "Don't let something like that happen to you. _Please_."

Her voice breaks just a little on the last word, even though she had tried to keep things lighthearted, and Sakura turns away hastily, hating the brief moment of weakness.

Itachi is silent as he carefully sheathes the narrow, lethally sharp blade of his katana as far as it will go into the poison, before silently watching it until it dries. Then, he returns the sword back into its former position, taking care to make sure that nothing whatsoever is out of order. Sakura is still looking away from him, fixing her gaze firmly on the poisoned bottle of sake, with her arms wrapped around her waist and each hand clutching the opposite elbow.

Both of them pretend that Sakura does not flinch as Itachi places two fingers underneath her chin, gently guiding her face upward, before pressing a kiss to where her forehead meets her hairline. "Are you ready?" he asks, his voice low.

Sakura forces a brittle smile as she reaches for his hand, tangling their fingers together. "Of course I am."

After another thorough scan of the room, in order to make sure whether everything is perfect and ready, Itachi leads her out, and Sakura cannot pretend that she _isn't _just a little bit relieved to leave the eerie, stifling atmosphere of Madara's favorite haunt.

…If only.

After yet another paranoid check to make sure that her S-ranked concealment genjutsu (something even the Mangekyou Sharingan cannot see through; Kakashi-sensei had taught it to her, when she had bluntly asked how to defend herself against it, in the wake of Sasuke's defection and the beginning of her training with Tsunade) is fully intact and her chakra is completely masked, Sakura sighs somewhat, pressing herself into the pitch-black shadows created by the otherwise concealed katana cabinet.

It hadn't been hard – the calming chakra that she had injected into Itachi's arm while he had been undergoing that almost scary_, _yet extraordinarily subtle, panic attack…had also been fused with a very slight spike of disorienting, mind-numbing chakra. A mild form of the depressants she had used on his mind during her attempted interrogation of him, almost, and she had taken advantage of his momentary state of disorientation in order to engage the duplication technique.

And _that_ is why Sakura is watching her clone press her side against Itachi's and throw one last glance over her shoulder before the door closes behind her, shutting her – the _real _Sakura – into Madara's conference room.

Alone.

Completely alone.

Kami, Itachi would _kill _her if he found out what she had done. But he isn't going to find out – her shadow clones have always been nearly undetectable from her actual body, thanks to her precisely honed chakra control. In addition, Kakashi hadn't only taught her one technique immune to the Sharingan; it was difficult, as he had developed all of these counter-Sharingan jutsus himself, but after one entire day and night that they had spent together, he had taught Sakura how to create adaptations to several common jutsus that prevented the Sharingan from seeing through them.

So Sakura feels safe – relatively. Itachi will drop the other her off in his room, before returning here, and hopefully, he will be too distracted by his impending confrontation with Madara to be overly observant of any minute details. And when Madara returns shortly, she can keep an eye on things – and kami willing, there will be no need for her to step in and interfere. Itachi seems adamant that he do this himself, not only for the satisfaction of killing Madara, but because of his strangely flattering but still utterly infuriating desire to protect her and keep her from open combat whenever possible.

Still, there was no way in freaking _hell _that Sakura would ever consider leaving him to face this alone. Even though Itachi is one of the most incredibly powerful and lethal shinobi in existence and is likely more than capable of handling it himself, she just _could not _find it within herself to walk away and simply trust that everything was going to work out all right (because it never does). There was just this feeling, this horrible, nagging, _what if_ – _what if something goes wrong, what if he needs you—_

Sakura feels like she is in over her head, a little. She feels so much and so hard that it's kind of making her dizzy – scared; brave at the same time, _recklessly _stupid, as anybody who she knows would tell her. But in the end, she tells herself that it doesn't matter, because she is a kunoichi, damn it, and she will fight to protect the ones that she loves.

_(Itachi, just as much as Naruto—)_

—Regardless of the repercussions.

-

Sakura had argued. When that had failed, she had pleaded. When he had shown nothing but stony, unyielding immunity to the pleas in question, the pink-haired kunoichi had finally resorted to throwing herself on top of him and attempting to kiss him into submission.

"Please," Sakura whispers, between heated kisses against his neck. "I've never seriously asked you for anything before. You know that I would only be an asset if somehow, things don't go as planned—"

It is difficult, but Itachi forces himself not to respond to her advances, and he firmly places his hands on her hips, extricating himself from her embrace. Sakura glares at him venomously, as he knew she would, but he sighs somewhat, before easing the reluctant girl into a sitting position on his bed and settling himself beside her for a few moments. "The course of events will not deviate from our plan," he assures her, with a great deal more implacable calmness than he feels. "Sakura, you are only making things more difficult for both of us."

Her cheeks flush angrily, but preempting the angry tirade that is sure to follow, Itachi tilts his head and nuzzles against the side of her neck for the barest of moments, in order to placate her somewhat. It is the kind of blatantly tender gesture that he usually only allows himself to engage in with Sakura after he is entirely certain that she has fallen asleep and would be unaware of it, in any case; naturally, it is something that Itachi is entirely uncomfortable with, but that Sakura loves, and he feels her sigh a little, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Is that a yes?" she murmurs softly.

Itachi draws back, placing one hand on her hip and pulling her back to him, before kissing the top of her head. "No."

She is too tired to argue, now, and Sakura just closes her eyes, frustrated, as she leans against the pillows that she had propped against his headboard and draws her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "Fine," she replies simply, giving him a worn smile. "But if you aren't back in one and a half hours, at most, I'm going to find you and choke Madara to death with my bare hands."

Despite the gravity of the situation, Itachi cannot help but smirk humorlessly at the mental image that her words elicit. "I am sure."

Sakura kisses him one last – _not _last, he forces himself to correct – time before he leaves, and it is only after Itachi shuts and locks the door from the outside, that he allows himself to close his eyes and sigh again, although this time, it is somewhat regretful. The hallways are as dark and empty as they had been previously, as he makes his swift, silent way back to Madara's private wing of the headquarters, and it feels strange, somehow – not having Sakura by his side.

The thought makes Itachi frown, but he is forced to realize the truth in that statement. They have been together for seven, almost eight months now, and he has grown incredibly used to working with her. Their often rocky and tumultuous interpersonal relationship prior to this point aside, the two of them have always had excellent chemistry as partners. Their skills and personalities provide a perfect balance to one another's, and both of them are extremely intelligent, as well; there are times when he has started a sentence of some operational outline, and Sakura had finished it without missing a beat. They work together and look out for one another flawlessly, as well – since both of them are both incredibly skilled shinobi in their own right, it is little wonder that, as partners, they have easily and effortlessly risen to the top of the discreet, complex hierarchy of hunter-nin that are in…private practice, so to speak.

It bothers Itachi, that he has come to feel so…reliant…on Sakura. That he has become accustomed to her, and being _without _her; facing potentially difficult situations without her, feels so very…wrong.

There is half an hour until Madara is scheduled to return, and he enters the deserted conference room again, taking a seat at the only other chair besides Madara's, before finally allowing himself to brace his elbows on the cool, creaky table and prop his head in his hands. It is a strange feeling; his blood is coursing with adrenaline, but Itachi feels so incredibly tired at the same time – which is dangerous, to say the least. It is the last thing that he should be feeling, prior to an impending confrontation with the most formidable opponent that he has possibly ever faced.

Itachi tries to close his eyes; tries to meditate, for what seems like the longest time. For once, it is not enough, though – in his heightened state of awareness, his mind keeps picking out the minutest details of his surroundings; the temperature of the room, the feel of the wood under his elbows, the all-encompassing darkness, and even the soft, barely audible and insidiously scratching noise that seems to come from somewhere inside the walls, or the depths of the room itself.

_Rats?_

Itachi frowns in slight distaste, but does not give any further thought to the trivial matter. It is most likely that the sound is a product of his overly sensitized nerves, perhaps; a few minutes after he had walked in here and settled himself, as well, he had been unable to shake the dark, lingering sensation that he had not been alone in this room.

That thought, however, is utterly ridiculous. The chakra reading from the rest of the conference room is a flat zero, and as much as Itachi despises admitting it, he had been truly shaken to the core by the experience of holding his old katana again, even though it had just been for about two or so minutes.

The seconds are ticking by, slowly and surely. Three more minutes at most. Itachi feels frighteningly cold and detached in a way that he has not in years. He can count on one hand the times that he has truly wanted, _needed_ to kill, and this undoubtedly is ranked with those instances. At times, his personality seems to be an almost laughable paradox – a gentle pacifist by nature; yet, born, bred, and forced to live as the most ruthless and efficient of killers.

Today, though, his thoughts are nowhere near gentle and pacifistic. His mind offers the icy, clinical and logical details of why it would be most beneficial for him if Madara were to die – and, instead, his body merely wants to pick up the katana and focus on what it would _feel _like to stab the blade through Madara's heart. His hands itch to close around Madara's throat and press down and twist, forcing every inch of life out of his body; or, better yet, to envision the most gruesome of deaths within a genjutsu, and torture and kill Madara with that, inside and out.

It is a strange feeling; wanting to act on all of the deadly lethality that his body and skills are more than capable of. Because, damn it, Madara has manipulated him in the worst of ways – Itachi cannot even think about the way that the elder Uchiha had used his…affinity…toward Sakura, in order to corner him into becoming a puppet for his plan. Itachi knows that Sakura is a weakness – his _only _weakness – yes, but the way Madara had driven that knife between his ribs and twisted the blade so mercilessly…

It had almost been too much to bear. The shame of being used and manipulated that way, the horrible things he had agreed to; the almost-resentment that he had felt toward Sakura as a result of that – not to mention the horror of Madara's ultimate goal. Of, essentially, using Sakura as some kind of brood mare, in order to acquire the strongest genes possible for the next generation of the Uchiha clan.

And then Madara had threatened to kill her if she ever obstructed his plans again.

It hurts in a vague, removed sort of way; thinking about all of this again – it makes a slight tremor run through Itachi's fingers, wanting to tighten them into white-knuckled fists, at the recollection of the way Madara had made the little genjutsu-Sakura's neck snap with that sickening crunch – but it is giving him the resolution he needs to do this.

There is a quiet sound outside, in the hallway, and it could have been anything, but with a cold, chilling kind of certainty, Itachi knows what it really is.

_Three, two, one—_

Itachi's spine tenses even further, and he anticipates the action a few milliseconds before it comes. The barely audible click of the turning doorknob, the sudden influx of even cooler air – one light footstep forward, and then a heavy, tangible pause.

Itachi forces himself to take a few deep, even breaths, before rising in one smooth action, and turning to face Madara fully. For a fraction of a second, the two of them simply take one another in, before Madara tilts his head to the side very slightly; Itachi is not sure whether it is just the shadows of the room, but a strangely predatory cast seems to take over the hollowed, gaunt features of the elder Uchiha.

"Itachi," Madara pronounces, in his customary sibilant hiss; evidently overcoming his surprise enough to slink the rest of the way into the room and shut and lock the door behind him, and the sound echoes eerily into the enclosed space. "To what do I owe this…pleasure?"

Outwardly, as he makes his way over to the other side of the long, rectangular table and his customary seat, Madara's movements are as sleekly serpentine as ever; still, Itachi's sharp gaze, as it has always been trained to do, quickly and accurately targets all of the visible weaknesses. Physically, Madara looks even weaker than he has before; his days are numbered as is, and the restoration jutsu seems to be losing some of its effect on him. There is a barely noticeable tremor in his shoulders; as if Madara is swallowing over and attempting to hold back a fit of coughs, but they are clawing at his throat with scalding, acidic fingers, aching to burst free – Itachi remembers this particular sensation out of personal experience.

He calmly waits for Madara to take a seat, but the older man is toying with a bone-handled dagger, twirling it through his long, withered fingers – therefore, not even making a move toward the sake, but that can be easily corrected.

"The Uzumaki," Itachi pronounces evenly, his tone effortlessly, coldly professional, as he extricates a kunai of his own from the inner pocket of his cloak and begins to echo the same movements, "is dead."

The oppressive silence stretches between them for what feels like a long time, as Madara simply watches Itachi, his crimson-and-black gaze narrowed in instinctive suspicion, as he slowly sinks down into his chair. "Kakuzu reported that both of the teams of mercenaries, deployed two weeks ago, were unable to find young Naruto-kun."

Itachi cannot tell whether this blankly recited statement is supposed to be in argument or support of his claim, but he only inclines his head a fraction of an inch, before pulling his…evidence out of the inside of his cloak as well, and sliding it over to Madara, his expression betraying nothing.

With speed that belies his age, Madara catches the tattered Konoha forehead protector effortlessly. His face is equally emotionless as he lifts it by the tattered blue ribbon that borders the sides, bringing it to eye level and inspecting it intently.

The ribbon is torn in several places; the metal nicked and scratched as well. There are spots of darkened blood that have soaked into the ribbon, and the distinctive, immense and raw power of Naruto's unrestrained chakra signature is caught and trapped into the very essence of the material.

They both know that no shinobi would allow their forehead protector to be stripped from them, unless they were in no condition to fight back. That with Naruto, especially, one would have to pry it from his cold, dead body.

By the time Madara finally lifts his eyes to Itachi's, the younger Uchiha already knows, with a kind of heavy, immovable certainty, that Sakura's idea had succeeded.

"When?" Madara asks slowly, trying his best to subdue the sudden, fiery, and frighteningly intense ambition that has leapt into his crimson eyes.

"Five days ago," Itachi replies, without even the slightest moment of hesitation. Extraneous detail is not necessary; it would be out of his normal character to do so, and Madara would pick up on such a lapse immediately.

"How?" Madara counters, at once, before a somewhat crafty smirk slips onto his face. "I do not imagine that your…kunoichi…would have easily acquiesced to this latest operation of yours."

Itachi forces himself to shrug one shoulder dismissively, keeping his eyes evenly trained on Madara's. "I left her unconscious in the bedroom – the Uzumaki's location was only a few hours away from ours, and by night, I had already safely incinerated the remains and returned. The girl has no idea that anything is amiss, and I thought it wiser to discuss the state of events with you prior to informing her and, therefore, putting the second stage of our plan in motion."

There is the briefest flicker of approval in Madara's eyes; it sickens him, although Itachi easily, flawlessly, conceals it. "Jiraiya?" Madara inquires perfunctorily, already placing the kunai down and leaning back more fully against his chair.

"He was not present upon the time of my confrontation with Naruto," Itachi returns coolly. "I did not intend to waste time waiting for him to return, but if you so desire, I can return at any time to eliminate him as well."

"That will not be necessary at the moment," Madara murmurs smoothly, closing his eyes for a fraction of a second. In a sick, twisted way, he looks more content than Itachi has ever seen him, and it is only too clear that, behind those closed eyelids, he is allowing himself to imagine the undoubtedly disturbing image of the new Konoha; the one that he has spent so many years cultivating. "I must admit," he says, at last. "You exceeded my expectations, Itachi."

Itachi inclines his head noncommittally; trying not to look too absorbed by the way Madara is drawing his bottle of sake closer to him. His fingers tremble ever so slightly on the stopper, and momentarily, Itachi worries that Sakura might have closed it more tightly than Madara had left it. The other man does not look like he suspects that anything is amiss, although the strain of finally pulling the stopper out of the poisoned bottle of sake makes him cough once – a raw, painfully rasping sound that likely signals that his lungs are slowly giving out.

Itachi glances down at his fingernails, seemingly disinterested, as Madara carefully measures out a small amount of sake into the shotglass. The liquid is perfectly clear and completely physically unaltered by the…extra addition, and, on Itachi's part, forcing his heart rate to stay unincriminatingly low and even is getting more and more difficult by the moment.

And then, in one swift movement – aided by the slightest flick of one chakra-filled finger – the shotglass slides smoothly across the table, the cold glass stopping at a light brush of the back of Itachi's hand.

All of his muscles tense visibly, but Itachi compels himself to pick it up in one sleek, easy movement; regarding the liquid a little distastefully, while Madara watches him through shrewdly guarded, narrowed eyes. "To your victory," he says, by way of explanation, an almost unearthly smirk touching his shadowed face. "To the next Hokage of Konoha. It is customary, after all."

_This does not mean anything—_

Itachi slides the glass back, his expression as utterly impassive as always. "You know that I have never partaken in such things."

Madara only raises an eyebrow. "I insist," he hisses, in return. "It is my finest, after all."

From her place hidden in the shadows, Sakura closes her eyes, leaning her suddenly flushed forehead against the genjutsu-concealed cabinet, feeling her heartbeat skyrocket so much that it is actually making her feel more than a little disoriented. Kami, no, this is so cliché that one of them _should_ have thought of it. Of course the twisted bastard would never risk drinking anything that had been left unattended in a room while he knew somebody else – Itachi – had been alone in said room for an unknown period of time.

If Itachi refuses to drink any more than he is already doing, Madara's suspicions would be aroused, and _then_, nothing could come out of that except potentially mortal combat between the two Uchiha. If Itachi does—

—_oh, kami, why did I make it so fast-acting, why—_

Careful not to let her increasingly panicked state of mind interfere with the flawless masking of her chakra and the concealment genjutsu, Sakura reaches up, raking her gloved fingers through her hair as she thinks desperately. The only chance that Itachi could _possibly _have of survival is if he takes a few sips of the sake, and then immediately, _immediately _slows his metabolism to a stop with the aid of medical chakra. Even that gives them a limited amount of time, and she would have to extract the poison from Itachi's system itself within half an hour or so, at most; the sooner, the better. But the act of Itachi drinking the sake would be enough to assuage Madara's suspicions, and lure him into a sense of security that will hopefully last long enough for _him _to take a sip of the poisoned sake.

The pink-haired kunoichi bites her lip hard, fixing her desperate gaze on her partner, and silently willing him to know what she is thinking. To realize the only way out of this situation, which is incredibly risky nevertheless, but still – what if Itachi _doesn't _know how to slow down his metabolism by way of medical chakra? In the past, he has studied her thick medical textbooks as recreation, but it is still a difficult process that cannot be perfected without prior practice.

Sakura closes her eyes determinedly, one hand slipping into her pocket and pulling out a thin, sleek hairpin.

It is a risk that neither of them should take.

-

_Do not hesitate._

Itachi lifts the shotglass with unshaking fingers, bringing it to his lips. Madara is staring in that predatory way, smirking that twisted smirk of his, and it makes Itachi's resentment for him flare up, suddenly and viciously, but he cannot think about that right now. He has never stopped his metabolism through usage of medical chakra before; all the understanding he has of the technique is through one conversation with Sakura and a few chapters of her textbooks that had the requisite information. It is a delicate and difficult process, but this is something that Itachi cannot afford to make even the slightest mistake in; it could be life or death, and before, the prospect of death was hardly enough to other him – as long as he could take Madara with him – but now, Itachi has Sakura, and—

-

Itachi is watching the poisoned glass of sake.

Madara is watching Itachi.

One step forward and another to the side, and nobody turns.

_Don't do it, Itachi, _Sakura silently pleads, stepping in front of the genjutsu-concealed cabinet. This puts her back to Madara and she tries not to tremble. Even when hidden by genjutsu and with her chakra masked, she can still see flawlessly through _other _genjutsu, and the large black cabinet is only to clear to her.

_Wait. Please. Let me save you—_

The blood is pounding in her ears in what feels like a deafening roar, and the click of her hairpin as it slides into the lock and she twists it once is barely audible but far too loud almost at once.

In the same instant, Itachi tilts his head back ever so slightly, and takes one sip of the poisoned sake. There is no change in his expression; not even the minutest external reaction to what he knows that he has just done, and in the same movement, he sets the glass back on the table and slides it back over to Madara. "Quite acceptable," Itachi deadpans. "Although I do not anticipate changing my habits anytime soon."

Sakura's hand stills on the cabinet's knob as she stares at her partner, horrorstruck.

For the briefest of moments, Madara looks similarly surprised, before inclining his head a fraction of an inch. He looks satisfied in a cunning sort of way, as he picks up the shotglass, throws his head back, and drains it.

Sakura forgets how to breathe as she presses her back to the cabinet and watches. Despite the clamor of just about every nerve in her body, she should not do anything right now. She should just wait and see how events develop within the next two minutes exactly, before she attacks. Madara should feel the effects of the poison at any second, now, and his first external reaction should occur at approximately one and a half minutes after ingestion—

"Delicious," Madara breathes softly.

Sakura doesn't know whether it is her imagination, or whether Itachi really is growing paler.

"As I said earlier, I believe that I have underestimated your abilities, Itachi," Madara continues on, leaning against the back of his chair calmly.

Itachi nods tersely, not daring to speak. His throat feels as if it is on fire, and breathing seems to be taking a little bit more effect than usual. He has stopped his metabolism, but he still feels the poison, and—

"But," Madara sighs, in an eerily echoing hiss, tasting the poison on his tongue and burning its way down his throat and into his body, and deeply, inextricably, making its way into his bloodstream. "You may have underestimated mine as well."

Sakura blinks, and before she can lunge forward and punch, the two Uchiha are already against the opposite wall, both of them pinning the other by the throat. Itachi's grip is stronger, but Madara's hold on his throat is icy cold, and the elder Uchiha twists cruelly, bringing his face within an inch of Itachi's, so that both of their bloodline limits are locked together in a deadly battle for dominance. "I can stop my metabolism, too," Madara fairly snarls, his usual cold composure shattered, in an indication of the true degree of his rage. "Therefore, I approximate that we both have half an hour, give or take a few minutes, and I swear to all the kami that in that time, I will _make you suffer_."

-

It is, essentially, the mutant offshoot of the Tsukiyomi – a torture genjutsu, in which every one of the agonies inflicted on the victim while under the spell of the genjutsu, upon release of the technique, is translated into their physical body…to a limited extent.

Which is how it is supposed to work, technically. Even in this state, in the blurred black and gray earth and air, the blood-red sky and the raven-black full moon, Itachi still possesses the rationale to contemplate the fact that, in his genjutsu battle with Sasuke, he had learned what, when pitted against another Sharingan, certain genjutsu typical to that bloodline limit would not operate as predicted.

Without any further thought on the subject, Itachi stabs Madara in the stomach, embedding the kunai hilt-deep into the elder Uchiha's withered body, and twisting hard.

In turn, Madara chokes, but then, he grabs Itachi by the hair, pulling him forward with a vicious yank, and slashes his kunai in a long, horizontal movement, dragging it painfully from one side of his collarbone to the other. The pain is unimaginable; it feels like the blade of the knife had been dipped in acid prior to the strike, but, from there on, the attacks only get worse.

With three rapid hand seals, Itachi makes Madara's liver rupture in a painful explosion, and then the elder Uchiha vomits blood, spilling red all over the gray grass of their genjutsu dreamscape.

By the time he straightens, with two hand seals of his own, he has already partially collapsed Itachi's left lung.

Like the Tsukiyomi, it feels like the agony lasts forever. It feels like it takes Itachi hours to rip Madara apart, from the inside out, and for Madara to do the same to him…but to a much lesser extent.

-

In reality, though, it is two seconds. Two seconds that Sakura watches, aghast, at the swirling pinwheels of the two pairs of Mangekyou Sharingan. The two of them must be locked in some kind of horrible genjutsu, and involuntarily, she remembers the gruesome, self-mutilating one that Itachi had used on the ANBU Root Captain, and the time that Itachi had turned the Tsukiyomi on Kakashi, who had been unconscious for days—

Aside from that – which didn't truly count – Sakura has never seen one Sharingan in combat against another, and who knows what kind of separate horrors _that _could perpetrate?

Without thinking any further about it, and now not needing to conceal herself any longer, Sakura releases the technique and flings the doors of the cabinet open, hastily reaching toward Itachi's katana. She needs to stop this before he can get seriously hurt inside the genjutsu, not to mention that she still needs to extract the poison from inside his system. There's only so much a metabolism freeze can do for a poison like that, and it's even likely that within the genjutsu, Itachi may not be able to have the requisite amount of control over his chakra in order to keep it going.

The katana is incredibly heavy in her hands, and Sakura staggers under the weight of it for a moment, looking at the two Uchiha desperately. The blade is almost as long as her legs – which doesn't say much, since she has always been too petite, anyway – but she has never even touched one of these before. She has no idea how to hold or wield it, but there is no other choice. Getting within punching distance of Madara could mean death; Sakura knows that she has no way of possibly standing up to any of the genjutsu that _he _has in his arsenal.

Sakura brings chakra to her hands, helping herself support the weight of the katana, as she stalks toward the elder Uchiha. He and Itachi are both scarily motionless, their faces frozen into portraits of bone-chilling lethality, but Madara's back is to her, luckily, and—

It is a wildly inexperienced stab – literally. It would have made most Konoha shinobi cover their faces in shame. But, damn it, Sakura doesn't care about grace or finesse or proper technique; she just wants to _kill. _

The slash isn't as deep as it could have been. It runs from Madara's left shoulder blade to his hip, splattering drops of blood all over the front of her vest and onto her forehead and hair, and before Sakura even has time to draw the katana back, her eyes glittering victoriously, the spell is already broken.

Stupidly, Sakura ignores Madara, her now downright shocked and frightened gaze locking onto Itachi. He looks worse than he did even after she had broken six of his ribs and bruised his lung, that one time – now, he can barely breathe (partially collapsed lung?), he has no color in his face save for his too-pale lips and crimson eyes, and his gaze takes too long to focus on her. And, kami, when his shoulders stiffen suddenly and he dazedly lifts one hand to his chest – around the collarbone area – it comes back covered in blood.

Madara is equally damaged; he cannot stand up straight, and blood is flowing in a steady trickle from his mouth, and he is coughing on it, and Sakura sees red as she draws her fist back, risk of genjutsu be damned, because he _hurt _Itachi, and—

Despite his injuries, in the next second, Madara's fingers have fisted painfully into her hair, and Sakura cannot hold back her almost-scream as he throws her forward, into Itachi's arms, although Madara only pulls her hair tighter. "Like what you see, _princess_?" he hisses, and the blood drips from his mouth onto her back; it is sickeningly warm and it soaks through her vest and into her skin, making her shudder. "I am killing him, and it is _all your fault._"

Sakura is a strong kunoichi, but Itachi's too-cold hands are clutching her elbows as he looks down at her, utterly disoriented and too far gone to do anything, and she sobs, the raw and painful sounds searing her throat. Blindly, she spins around and aims the strongest punch that she can at the monsterthat is holding her captive, and is rewarded by a gasp of pain, the sickening cracks of breaking ribs, and the unmistakable sound of somebody retching blood. "You're going to die too, you bastard!" Sakura snarls, in a voice that she cannot recognize as her own, wiping the back of her hands across her eyes viciously as she advances upon Madara again, even though she is reluctant to leave Itachi's side. "What the hell are you accomplishing by doing this?"

"You are so very upset, Sakura-chan," Madara manages to sneer back, wiping the blood away from the corner of his mouth, although he can barely form the words. "Why? Is it because I am killing your lover as we speak, because he is still trapped and slowly being tortured to death in a genjutsu of _my _creation, and you cannot do anything to stop me, because I am already dying?"

Sakura punches him in the chest, and the rest of his ribs break, but that is not enough to stop the dying megalomaniac as he leers at her. "Did you know how I manipulated your Itachi into agreeing to my plan?"

She stops dead for a fraction of a moment, her eyes widening, and she tries not to listen, but Madara plunges ahead ruthlessly. "I offered him what he wanted most. _You_, on a pretty little silver platter. Being Hokage was never Itachi's true desire – only the knowledge that, if he became the new Rokudaime, he would have you as his wife. He wanted to marry you; to settle down in the Uchiha compound and give you all of his attention and affection on a permanent basis. Itachi loves," – Madara glances over at his dying once-protégé dispassionately – "_loved _you, little Sakura, so much that I doubt you could comprehend it. He truly did. What a pity."

Sakura punches again, although the strike goes wide, because she is trying her best to avoid choking on her tears. "I'll do anything," she finds herself begging, her words scratchy and hoarse with emotion. "_Please."_

They are circling each other like lions on the hunt, and Madara laughs, even though the sound makes him double over even further and sends more blood out of the side of his mouth. "How touching," he replies scornfully. "Do not overexert yourself, little Sakura. After Itachi and I are gone, you will still have Sasuke, after all."

In the next second, Madara has been knocked ten feet backward, against the opposite wall, and Sakura tightens her fingers around his neck, twisting his neck mercilessly and savoring each and every pop of bone, and from behind her, Itachi actually makes a soft moan of pain in the back of his throat, and in that moment, Sakura knows what she has to do.

"You just love your bloodline, don't you, Madara?" she hisses venomously, stretching up so that her defiant green eyes lock with his slowly fading Sharingan. "It was the reason you would go to such great lengths to execute your damn plan, anyway. _Fine_. Kill Itachi. You're going to die anyway. And the _second _you let Itachi Uchiha die, I will put my hand on my stomach and kill his baby—"

A lie. Of course. A horrible, shameful lie that makes Sakura's insides twist at even _thinking _something like that, because she most definitely _is not_ really pregnant with Itachi's child, but Madara doesn't know that, and by the way his eyes are suddenly widening, she has hit a nerve.

"—And then I will find Sasuke," Sakura continues, making sure that her voice doesn't falter in the least, or enter the pitches of hysteria. "And I will kill him with my bare hands. Where does that leave your beloved bloodline then, Madara? Dead and gone, every last one of you, _forever, _and I swear to all the kami that I will do it, and I will let it be known that it was your fault. That _you _were the true killer of the last vestiges of the most glorious and powerful clan and bloodline limit that this world has ever seen."

For a few long moments, there is nothing but silence, and the painful drag of both Itachi and Madara's breathing, and Sakura's almost-audible praying of _kami, please let him buy it—_

As she watches, before her disbelieving eyes, the Sharingan fades from Madara's eyes, leaving them a cool, blank and slightly dimmed shade of slate gray.

Sakura's sharp eyes scan his vital stats and chakra readings as quickly as possible, her gaze desperately flickering between each of his eyes, and then she spins around to face Itachi, who is slowly sliding from his standing position against the wall, to the floor. The results are unmistakable—

Genjutsu status: fully disengaged.

In the next second, without sparing so much as another moment to think about it, Sakura bends down, grabs the katana she had discarded earlier, and stabs Madara in the chest with it seven times, each powerful blow pinning him against the wall with a sickening crack of metal stabbing through bone.

He is dead before he hits the floor.

Sakura does not look twice at the corpse, which is fairly oozing blood and gore, before rushing across the floor, to her lover's side. The cold stone floor makes her knees hurt as she falls there, gently cradling Itachi in her arms on principle as she checks his vital stats.

He has so many injuries – internal and external – that it makes her head spin. Broken ribs, partially deflated right lung and completely collapsed left lung, internal bleeding, _external _bleeding on a frightening scale from a long kunai gash across his collarbone, as well as a severe concussion. Not to mention that the poison is still circulating in his system…

Itachi is dying, and it is enough to make her beyond scared. Sakura's throat is tight and nearly closed over as she rapidly catalogues which injuries that she needs to deal with first in order to save him, and her hands are shaking, and _kami_, what if—

_You have to save him, _Inner Sakura reminds her ruthlessly, her fingernails scoring the insides of her palms with the strength of the fist she is making. _You have to; you have to, youhaveto—_

-

The pain is worse than when he had died at Sasuke's hands.

Something in Itachi's chest fills too much, making him feel like he is inhaling quantities of air that are far too great for his body, and that sensation is echoed on the other side of his body. Like somebody is inflating his lungs like balloons.

He lapses in and out of fitful, brief snatches of consciousness. Itachi sees soft pink hair out of the corners of his eyes, and small hands exploring him, coated with layers of green – _medical_, part of him supplies – chakra, and everything smells like tears and blood.

And then he is not exactly there any longer; not here nor there, in a strange state of limbo. Itachi is standing in the midst of a dark, empty forest that feels vaguely familiar, and then, so suddenly and shockingly that it makes him flinch, something rough and sharp and jagged makes contact with his cheek.

Before he can even turn, another one pelts him on the side of the head. This time, when Itachi attempts to spin around, his Sharingan flaring murderously, he very nearly trips on his Akatsuki cloak.

The next pinecone makes contact squarely with his back.

The realization hits him too slowly, because by then, Itachi has already turned, and for a moment, he forgets how to breathe.

He almost says '_Sakura_,' but it becomes far too clear that this is not Sakura. They look identical, yes, save for the fact that this girl has hair just as black as his, left messy and tousled by the wind. Her eyes are silver-gray and free of the Sharingan, as they had been when she had died, and Shisui smirks a little, tossing her pinecone up and down, stopping about ten or so feet away from him. "What are you doing?" she asks airily, and Itachi's stunned gaze cannot help but fixate on the angry purple-and-red bruise around her throat; the imprints of his fingers and palm still visible, even after all these years.

Shisui follows his gaze, and for a moment, when she realizes what Itachi is looking at, she frowns, before looking back up at him and shrugging almost apologetically. "I never felt it, anyway," she says offhandedly. "Anyway, Itachi, why are you here?"

Itachi frowns; almost makes a statement along the lines of asking where _here _is, but then, when he opens his mouth to speak, nothing can come out.

Strangely enough, a tiny smile dawns on Shisui's features. "I guess I was right," she comments, throwing her pinecone off into the forest, but in the next second, there is another pinecone in her hand. "You shouldn't _be_ here, right?"

She skips forward; places her small hands on Itachi's shoulders and gives him a slight push backward, unfazed by the nearly shocked look in his eyes. "Don't worry," Shisui assures him softly. "You'll be fine – it means that it isn't your time, anyway, and I have to admit…you're also in great hands, after all."

-

Shisui's voice is still echoing in the air by the time Itachi's eyes open with a snap.

The first thing he realizes is that there is no more pain. He is sitting with his back propped against a cold stone wall, and it is dark. The room smells of the cold, metallic scent of blood, and when Itachi finally dares to crack his eyes open, the first thing he notices is Madara's mangled corpse, lying against the opposite wall.

Itachi just stares at it for a few moments, unsure of what he is feeling. He does not know how or why Madara had released him from that genjutsu – another minute or so, though, and he would have died inside and out of it.

Itachi turns away from the sight, still feeling slightly stiff and achy and disoriented, and that is when he first fully notices the deathly-still girl curled up at his shoulder. His heart actually skips a beat for a moment, and then he pulls at her wrist roughly, tilting her head back, and pressing two of his fingers to Sakura's throat to check her pulse.

She looks physically battered and exhausted to the bone, but her heartbeat is there – faint, somewhat erratic, but _there_, and all the breath leaves his body in a long sigh. It is something that he would never do normally, but Itachi pulls Sakura close, letting the barely-conscious kunoichi rest her head into the hollow of his neck as he strokes her back and her long, tangled hair almost desperately, reassuring himself that she is still alive. He assumes that she had killed Madara, and then completely exhausted the rest of her chakra while healing _him_.

Itachi does not want to be in this horrible room that smells of death any longer, and he stands slowly, feeling the movement pull slightly at his newly-mended ribs and lungs. Carefully, he picks Sakura up as well, one arm supporting her beneath the knees, and the other, across her back. Every step is far more difficult than it should be, sending fine purple stars exploding against his slowly-blackening vision, even as he clumsily maneuvers the girl in his arms enough to allow himself to wrest the door open. If Itachi had to make an approximation, he would say that the poison was the last thing Sakura had managed to heal before collapsing – he is still feeling the effects of an extremely severe concussion, and he leans against the wall for a brief moment, stretching his neck back and attempting to come to terms with his blinding headache and the sudden dizziness caused by that.

He does not want to do this, but Itachi is vaguely conscious of sliding slowly to the floor, his knees giving out beneath him. Sakura is still curled up in his arms, and her eyes are firmly closed, but she makes a tiny sound of protest in the back of her throat, perhaps subconsciously aware that this is dangerous and definitely not in accordance with their original plan of getting the _hell _out of Rain as soon as they killed Madara, but…

For the second time in as many hours, Itachi loses consciousness, although his protective grip around Sakura does not loosen in the least.

And one hour later, this is how Pein and Konan find them.

For a long time, the Akatsuki Leader and his blue-haired partner just take in the scene. The door to Madara's always-locked conference room has been flung wide open, exposing the horrifyingly violent tableau within – down to such minute details as the upended bottle of sake and shotglass, the sole, blood-stained katana, Madara's veritably ripped-apart corpse, and the various and large bloodstains – both from Itachi and Madara – that are beginning to soak into the floor, staining it permanently. And, just a few feet away on the outside; their solo undercover operative, unconscious, with his arm wrapped around a similarly unresponsive and vaguely familiar pink-haired kunoichi, who first gained their attention for being the sole female teammate of the Kyuubi vessel.

"Well," Pein comments, at last, his expression betraying no emotion whatsoever. "This is only slightly…"

"Incriminating," Konan finishes, a tiny smile touching her face as she glances away from Itachi and Sakura, toward Madara's dead body. "Yes. Just a little."

* * *

_to be continued_

* * *

I apologize for this chapter coming out a little later than the others…last Monday, my mom suffered a relapse and was admitted to the hospital again. The past few days have been extremely hard for my family and I; her health was fading fast, to a point where the doctors weren't sure that she would even make it through the night.

Earlier today, though, she underwent major emergency surgery that removed the source of the infection that's been plaguing her for so long. She's going to be in the hospital for another month at least, and full recovery might take up to a year. I'm not going to lie – it's been horrible and frightening, but now, thankfully, her chances of survival are a lot higher. It's going to be a constant battle for the next few months, but at least now, we have some hope.

Between visiting my mom at the hospital, and dealing with my AP tests (and going to prom – the sole ray of sunshine in all of this), I have to say that I'm not fully sure when I'll be done with the next chapter of this. It might be up in two weeks instead of one, but I absolutely promise that I won't neglect this fic, and I will be trying to work on it as much as possible under the circumstances.

Thank you guys so much for all the support and understanding that you've given me. It means a lot. :)


	18. Conflicts Of Interest

_As always, thank you so much to everybody who was wonderful enough to review. :)_

_-_

_Chapter Eighteen: Conflicts Of Interest_

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Sakura's eyes snap open, and for a few terrifying moments, she is utterly disoriented.

In the next second, all the adrenaline that had been coursing through her veins during the conflict with Madara rushes back, and Sakura sits up so fast that she nearly hurts her spine. Her neck is painfully stiff, but she looks around desperately, as fast as she can, trying to determine where the hell she is.

She is sitting on a rather comfortable tatami mat, placed on a surprisingly warm wooden floor. The circular room is windowless, lit only by a few small table lamps, and Sakura blinks several times, attempting to force her blurry vision to adjust to the new lighting. There are…counters…around her, and what appears to be a table, a few feet away. The air smells of the distinctive scent of shrimp tempura, and a sudden, sharp stab of hunger from her stomach reminds her that she hasn't eaten in what might be hours.

_Kitchen_? Her mind offers, and Sakura bends her legs at the knee, curling them under her and feeling her heart pound, before raking her gloved fingers through her hair an attempt to come to grips with her blinding headache. She doesn't want to know why she is in the kitchen of the Akatsuki headquarters, instead of as far away from Rain as humanly possible. She doesn't want to know why she is alone (how much of Itachi had she managed to heal before she had collapsed? Sakura thinks, panicked), because this is scaring her so much—

Her first instinctive – and completely frightening – thought is that maybe everything had been some kind of dream. It could have only taken place a few hours ago, at most, but the terrifying hour Sakura had spent in that conference room is already taking on a surreal, dreamlike quality in the privacy of her mind. But no; she can feel dry, slowly crusting-over bloodstains on her back – Madara's blood, and it sends as much of a chill down her spine now as it had back then – and on her forehead and even in her hair, and this all too concrete physical evidence forces her to confront the reality that it had most definitely not been a dream.

There is the quiet echo of footsteps then, somewhere behind and above her, and Sakura's exhausted muscles immediately tense in preparation to attack or defend. But before she can even move, the unknown and unseen intruder speaks, in a voice that is soft and even and unmistakably female.

"Are you all right?"

The question startles Sakura, and she freezes, turning around sharply and looking up, even as her fingers curl into an automatic fist, nevertheless.

The blue-haired kunoichi slightly behind her tilts her head to the side a fraction of an inch as she slowly, gracefully sinks to her knees opposite her thoroughly unsettled counterpart. Konan inclines her head toward Sakura's still-clenched fist, noticing the younger woman's wide, shocked gaze; an almost amusing antithesis to the aggressiveness suggested by her physical gesturing. "There is really no need for that," Konan points out mildly, placing a ceramic bowl of fragrant, steaming miso soup between them, almost as if it could serve as some sort of a perverse peace offering.

Now even more shocked, despite her ravenous hunger, Sakura can't help but inch back a little, eyeing the Akatsuki's sole kunoichi warily. She cannot think of any reasons whatsoever why this organization's second-in-command would even try to be civiltoward her, and even though she cannot detect the presence of any poison or harmful substance within the soup, this experience is still so incredibly weird that it is setting all of her nerves completely on edge.

Unfazed by Sakura's obvious distrust of her motives, Konan only pulls out a small, square sheet of thin, aquamarine paper from the inner pocket of her cloak, and begins to serenely fold it into a crane. "I hope you do not mind my relocating you," she comments impassively. "Sasori and Deidara happened upon you and Itachi in the hallway almost immediately after Pein and I did. They were getting rather…unhealthily inquisitive, and I did not think that would turn out well."

Sakura can't help but raise an eyebrow at this utterly bemusing kunoichi, before grudgingly placing her hands on the bowl of warm soup and drawing it closer to her. "_Unhealthily_?" she retorts, picking up the spoon with slightly trembling fingers, and trying to mask her automatic shudder at the idea of Sasori being even within a mile's radius of her, let alone…looking at her, _watching _her, while she had been unconscious and totally defenseless. "On their part or mine?"

Konan arches one perfectly plucked and equally dark blue eyebrow back at her. "Considering Sasori and Deidara's tendencies and personalities, it could have developed into a less-than-desirable situation for you, to say the least," she replies smoothly. "However, considering Itachi's reaction if he ever found out, it would have been more than a little physically unhealthy for _them_."

Despite her best efforts, Sakura is forced to bite her lower lip hard in order to prevent herself from showing any sign of outward amusement at the very thought of her partner actually experiencing feelings of…jealousy, for whatever reason. "Where is Itachi, anyway?" she asks, trying not to sound overly concerned.

"He is currently conversing with my partner," Konan responds calmly, placing the finishing touches on her paper swan.

The simple statement sends a sudden chill down Sakura's spine as she fidgets uncomfortably, barely managing to swallow the soup that has just turned into an icy cold lump in her throat. This is the exact situation she had most wanted to avoid; she has no way of knowing how Pein will react to what she and Itachi had done to Madara, and all Sakura can think of right now is the million different ways that something could go wrong at this point. Madara had been enough of an adversary, and the idea of facing the two incredibly powerful S-ranked leaders of Akatsuki _now_, when she and Itachi are pretty much entirely at their mercy, is enough to make he wince. Damn it; if only she hadn't collapsed out of chakra exhaustion…the two of them could have been far away from Rain by now, and no potentially dangerous scenario like this could have ever developed.

Sakura is too wrapped up in chastising herself to notice the tiny smile that touches the corner of Konan's lips for one brief moment as she discreetly observes the ex-Leaf kunoichi. The girl is good at concealing her emotions, yes, but the sudden shadows in her apple-green eyes and the way her fingers are twisting together nervously against the hemline of her skirt, however subtly, are giveaways enough. It is all just too strange, and Konan is still battling to come to terms with the almost completely nonsensical idea of their cold, detached, emotionless Itachi actually being involved with somebody – let alone _this _particular somebody.

Still (to her trained eye, at least), it is obvious that Sakura is quite worried about the ultimate fate of her partner, and the most fleeting shadow of amusement at the situation flickers through Konan's clear, sapphire-blue gaze. "Calm yourself," she decrees coolly. "We are not barbarians, Sakura. Do not forget that Itachi is and has always been one of our own, and that therefore, we would never even consider harming him."

Even though it is likely an irrational reaction, as Konan had likely meant the words as some form of reassurance, Sakura cannot help the momentary flare of tangible anger and – kami, _possessiveness, _which courses through the entirety of her body like liquid fire, making her muscles tense anew. It may not be the wisest thing to do, but she glares a little, in silent warning. Itachi isn't _theirs, _damn it, he is _hers_, and she has the scars – or, well, bloodstains on her back and residual headache from chakra exhaustion – to prove it.

Before she can say anything, though, and probably for the better, Konan beats her to the metaphorical punch, her lips quirking up ever-so-slightly in that small, infuriatingly enigmatic smile. "How very…endearing," she comments, pulling out yet another of her sheets of origami paper and beginning to fold up a rose. "It is really quite sweet."

For a fleeting second, Sakura wonders if she should finish the trend that she had started earlier in the day by stabbing Konan with the spoon that is lying in her forgotten bowl of miso soup.

"You two must work exceptionally well together in a multitude of ways, then," Konan continues, seemingly blithely. "Relationships that are equally efficient professionally and interpersonally are rare, but incredibly valuable to everybody involved, for several different reasons."

"Yes," Sakura interrupts tersely, unable to conceal the way her tone is starting to drip sarcasm. "There's nothing like punching some corrupt mercenary right into the path of Itachi's Sharingan and holding hands while we bask in the sound of his screams of agony. Hell, sometimes the two of us even go out for ice cream afterwards. It's all just an incredibly fulfilling experience."

Unfazed, Konan merely settles her finished rose next to the crane. "For a kunoichi of such incredible caliber, you are rather unsubtle, Sakura," she chides lightly. "I suppose that all of your adolescent dramatics are just your way of informing me that you want me to…cut to the chase, as it were?"

Sakura blinks a few times, despite herself, wondering if she is more hung op on 'incredible caliber,' 'unsubtle,' or 'adolescent dramatics.'

"Before I continue further, please do not make the mistake of thinking that the Akatsuki particularly needs your presence," Konan informs her cordially, folding her hands in her lap in a way that could almost be considered demure. "All of our members have a passing knowledge of medical techniques, and even if we did require a medic; as a mere A-ranking shinobi, at the moment, you are technically not even close to being qualified for recruitment."

The blue-haired kunoichi preempts Sakura's angry reply by giving her a soft, disarming smile. "Still," Konan completes quietly, "your intelligence is far above average, and now that the Godaime Hokage has…passed on, your skill set is entirely unique. You work flawlessly with even our most difficult member, and it is already clear that the two of you together are capable of eliminating even the most formidable of enemies. Yours and Itachi's skills complement each others' perfectly, both in more straightforward hunting and assassination missions, as well as the subtler art of espionage. Together, you two could effortlessly handle any assignment that our organization could ever give to you." She pauses for a brief moment, allowing the words to sink in. "…And for your part, Sakura, now that we have abandoned the goals of extracting the tailed demons _and _of establishing one Akatsuki member as the Kage of each country, your friend Naruto – and any other members of Konoha, come to think of it – will have nothing to fear from us."

Sakura is fairly sure that her jaw has dropped, and even though she should be firmly and immediately denying this proposition, she tilts her head slightly to the side in thought, watching Konan warily. From what she has observed so far, and from the small bits of information that Itachi had let slip on the matter on prior occasions, Pein and Konan's ideas of how they would run the Akatsuki differed greatly from Madara's, but she didn't think that they would completely abandon both of Madara's plans and take things in an entirely different direction.

"There are other ways of controlling and bringing peace to Japan," Konan explains, as if reading Sakura's mind, and she shrugs with one shoulder. "We are still unsure as to our exact plans, but the country does not center around the affairs of shinobi – and, now that Madara has been eliminated from the picture, our horizons have been broadened considerably."

At this point, Sakura is so stunned that she does not know exactly what to say, but finally, she becomes conscious of the fact that she is slowly shaking her head from side to side. "I appreciate the offer," she lies, forcing her tone to stay as even and diplomatic as possible, as she settles her hands in her lap and forces her fingers to stop knotting together nervously. "But my loyalty is only to Konoha as it was…and as it will be again, once Naruto takes it back."

"I do not contest that in the least," Konan replies, quite seriously. "From what Madara had been saying, Naruto has grown in skill enough to attempt a takeover within the next one and a half years. Aid him in the coup, by all means. You may even visit your former home between assignments or whenever you feel that it is necessary, as long as you spend the rest of your time as a full-fledged member of the Akatsuki. It is more than likely that there will be incredible scope for you as our…diplomat, of sorts, as well. As the Hokage, Naruto would undoubtedly listen to you when you inform him that the Akatsuki will technically no longer be an enemy to Konoha – as long as they leave us to our affairs, we will do the same for them."

Sakura wants to talk, but it feels as if the words are beginning to bleed into one and stick together in her throat. "I don't just want to _visit_," she finally, stubbornly, manages, staring at Konan as if she is an utter imbecile. "Every day since the day that I've left, every _moment _of every day, I've been just looking forward to the moment when I can walk back into those gates and go _home._"

"Ah," Konan sighs, and for a moment, she looks strangely exhausted – and like, if she were a little less subtle and polite, she would just tell the pink-haired kunoichi that she _didn't get it_. "But then, will it still be home, Sakura?" she explains patiently.

"Of course it will," Sakura retorts heatedly, after a moment's pause, as she glares at her counterpart. "I've lost people, during Danzou's first takeover and even before it, but everything and everybody that I love is still there, and _will _be there, after—"

"Yes," Konan interrupts, and there is no maliciousness in her voice at all – just a quiet, impassive statement of fact. "Except Itachi."

The simple statement effectively makes the words die in Sakura's throat, and she stares at Konan wordlessly, the volatile lamplight flickering in her gaze. In contrast, Konan's sapphire eyes are as calm as ever, and almost sad, as well. "I do not expect you to understand this yet, but…once you've lived this life," she comments softly, "for whatever reasons, there can be no going back. Do not expect to just go back to Konoha and fit into your life as it once was. You have changed; your village has changed. You cannot take all that you have gained—"

_Itachi_, Sakura thinks, with a painful pang in her chest.

"—In your life as a missing-nin and expect it to integrate seamlessly into what you left behind."

The words send a somewhat eerie chill down her spine, and it takes a conscious effort for Sakura to keep herself from shivering. Konan rises from her knees in one smooth movement, and Sakura ignores the hand that the blue-haired kunoichi holds out to her as she follows suit, leaning against the counter in an attempt to combat the wave of dizziness that has overwhelmed her. She feels confused and conflicted and almost as upset as she had been this morning, now, and—

"I apologize."

Konan's words are soft, and Sakura turns halfheartedly to look at the other woman, who has picked up an apple from the basket lying in the middle of the counter. "I did not mean to upset you," she continues, one purple-painted thumbnail scraping lightly against the thin, deep red skin of the apple. For a few long moments, both of them are silent, Sakura cautiously listening and waiting, and Konan still seemingly lost in contemplation. "I thought a balance of the nature that the Akatsuki could offer you would be desirable," she continues quietly. "It could not be everything you wanted, of course. There would be a little bit of sacrifice on your part, but at the same time, ultimately, it would offer you some peace."

Sakura closes her eyes, bracing her elbows back against the counter and taking a deep breath that hurts a little. Konan's bluntly phrased reminder that going back to Konoha would let her be with everybody she loved _besides _Itachi had been…a sorely needed reminder of the reality of things between them. It is just that, within the past few weeks of her and Itachi just being caught up in the wonderful, amazing, utter novelty of being _together_ – well, she had forgotten their situation. The fleeting, transient nature of everything that they have together. The fact that circumstances only allow them to have another year or a year and a half, at most, with each other.

For the most fleeting of seconds, Sakura wonders what it would be like (which is bad of her, so, _so _bad and disloyal and horrible, a ruthless inner voice reminds her cruelly) – to just go back and help Naruto with the coup and visit Konoha every month or so…while accepting Konan's offer of Akatsuki membership. And, therefore, staying with Itachi.

On that night in the cave, Itachi had admitted that his initial unwillingness to enter into a relationship with her was all rooted in the fact that he didn't want to be her temporary _anything, _and…

Kami, she doesn't want to think about it. She can't think about it.

Sakura turns away, lifting a slightly shaking hand to her forehead and pushing a few stray locks of hair behind her right ear. "If you did learn to live with a…balance…like you described to me, did it give you…peace?" she asks uncertainly, keeping her gaze fixed on a small stain on the floor.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the slight incline of blue hair. "It did." Konan says simply.

_And how much did you have to give up?_

The words hang heavily in the air between them, and Sakura has to blink a few times to clear her eyes. She cannot believe that she is having such a personal conversation with an enemy kunoichi who she barely knows, but, from what Sakura just innately senses, Konan must have gone through her own sort of difficulties; made her own sacrifices and compromises, in order to be with Pein.

The lamplight flickers momentarily. "Do you ever regret it?" Sakura asks quietly, finally daring to look over at the other kunoichi.

She receives another one of Konan's small, somewhat melancholy smiles in response, and now, her clear sapphire eyes are shadowed darker with memories and some sort of unreadable emotion. "No," she replies softly, setting the apple back on the counter. "Never."

Almost at that exact moment, the ring on Konan's right hand glows a brighter shade of sky-blue, filling the air with the softest of hums, and Sakura nearly jumps back, unnerved. Konan blinks down at her ring, before touching it lightly, and the color dulls back to its usual shade. "My partner and I need to consult at this time," Konan informs her politely, her usual calm appearance back in place. "His business with Itachi has concluded, and Itachi will likely be in here within a few minutes."

Sakura nods, more than a little unsure as to what to say now, but Konan just smiles at her, before sweeping regally toward the darkened doorway on the other side of the kitchen. "Good luck, Sakura," she says quietly. "Whatever path you choose, I wish you happiness."

In the next second, she is gone, leaving Sakura feeling even more emotionally drained than before. The miso soup had given her physical sustenance, but still, the pink-haired kunoichi sways on her feet for a moment, fingers gripping the counter tightly. Despite the hours that she had spent unconscious, she suddenly feels too tired to think, and Sakura slowly makes her way over to the kitchen table, easing herself into one of the uncomfortable chairs and curling up into a ball, drawing her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs, and finally bending forward to rest her forehead against her knees as well. Her chakra is still at a dangerously low level – as would be expected after performing such a rapid succession of high-level healing techniques – but, infuriatingly enough, there is nothing to do to help that, save for sleep…and maybe a nice long, hot shower.

Every time she closes her eyes, though, she remembers Madara. The horrifying sequence of events that had taken place in the conference room; the iron, unyielding and icy cold grip of Madara's fingers as he pulled her hair back and forced her to feel Itachi literally dying beneath her hands – how damn _close _they had cut it; how near they had been to losing everything—

Some distant part of Sakura observes that this was likely the worst possible time for Konan to have offered her that…proposal. Had she been in her normal state of mind, she would have just said _screw it, _but in all honesty, even though it's embarrassing to admit it, right now, she doesn't even like the thought of being a few roomsaway from Itachi; let alone the idea of permanently letting go of him, and Sakura detachedly considers the possibility that she might be going into some kind of post-traumatic shock.

She doesn't know how long she sits there, lapsing in and out of consciousness, until finally, Sakura feels the lightest of touches on her shoulders, almost caressing them lightly, and a low, familiar voice quietly uttering her name.

Itachi looks as worn as she feels, and it takes all of Sakura's considerable amount of self-restraint not to simply pull herself onto her feet and retreat into his arms. As it is, though, she just examines him wearily, before offering him a small, tired smile. "How was it?"

Outwardly, Itachi is as impassive as ever, but his hands are gentle as he helps her into a standing position, steadying Sakura with one hand on the small of her back. "We will talk about it when we return to a secure location," he responds quietly, leading her back out into the dark hallway.

Her clone had walked this path, and as a result, it feels somewhat familiar to Sakura; in a distant, strange and removed sort of way, almost as if some kind of force is directing her on autopilot to Itachi's room. It is a short walk, and appropriately enough, now that Madara is gone, the darkness and poor lighting does not bother her in the least.

Still, when she and Itachi are finally alone in his room and he is firmly locking the door behind them; the definitive _click _echoing into the silence, Sakura cannot help but exhale slowly, bringing her fingers up to run them through her hair and forcing herself to take a few deep, calming breaths. The room that they are enclosed in is windowless and made even darker by the simple, unmistakably masculine dark red and black décor, and even though normally, she would find such interior design gloomy, it is all just so incredibly, characteristically _Itachi _that it is almost enough to make her smile. But, unpleasantly enough, his room is even colder than the rest of the headquarters, and so clean and organized that it is enough to make Sakura's head spin.

The heavy red blankets smell like a strange mix of herbal teas and the heavily chemical scent of the medicines that he must have been taking for his illness prior to his death, as Sakura wordlessly crosses the room, and without regard for her hopelessly bloodied clothes, sinks down into the bed with a sigh. After a pause, Itachi joins her – he settles his back against the headboard, as customary, and Sakura is too exhausted to do anything more than curl up against his shoulder and chest as he automatically wraps an arm around her, trying to make some order of her tangled locks as he does so.

For a few minutes, they are both silent, simply breathing one another in and taking comfort in each other's presence. Sakura's thoughts are too tangled and confused, and all she feels is this intense emotion, pressing and building into her chest, because suddenly, now that she is really alone with him for the first time in a few hours and has had the time for everything to sink in, she cannot stop thinking about what Madara had said to her. How he had manipulated Itachi by using his feelings for her…that _Itachi _actually loved, wanted, desired _her _enough to go to such incredibly twisted lengths to ensure some kind of future with her. It is almost flattering, in a scary, nearly disturbing kind of way – if Madara had been telling the truth, it means that Itachi cares about her a million times more than she could have ever comprehended even in her wildest dreams, and that knowledge makes Sakura's head spin. With as much dignity as she possibly can, she angles her head slightly and rests it into the crook of Itachi's shoulder, readjusting her positioning beside him with a soft, barely audible sigh.

The slight action, combined with the way Itachi absentmindedly turns a little and just barely brushes his lips against her forehead – in a touch so fleeting and seemingly casual that it could have really just been an accident – sends a sharp stab of guilt right into Sakura's stomach. If he was willing to go to such great lengths to stay with her, and here, Konan had just essentially offered her a free ticket into the Akatsuki – with no possible antagonistic relationship with Konoha, no less - …and she honestly doesn't know what to do about that, does that mean that her love for him is less strong than his for her? Because Sakura _isn't _selfish. It isn't like she cares about her happiness more than she does his; damn it, after all that Itachi has been through in his life, he truly deserves to finally have some measure of happiness or contentment in his life, and more than anything else, she wants to be the one to give that to him. It's just that—

"You lied to me," Itachi comments, out of the blue, and Sakura feels the words vibrate along his throat as much as she hears them. His tone is low, but not accusatory or dangerous – it is simply devoid of all emotion, even though his fingers are still perfectly gentle as they brush out her hair.

Reluctantly, she extricates herself from his light hold, meeting his charcoal-gray gaze squarely, willing for none of her previous thoughts to show through in her gaze. "Yeah," Sakura responds pointedly, refusing to back down. "And you should know that it's a pretty damn good thing that I did."

This time, Itachi is the one who sighs minutely, and to her surprise, he glances away before she does; fixing his gaze on a nondescript spot on the blankets. "…Yes. Since, by doing so, you saved my life," he murmurs, so quietly that she can barely hear it.

Inappropriately enough, Sakura has to fight the urge to roll her eyes at the sudden manifesto of what appears to be that too stupid and freaking infamous Uchiha pride. "Just like you did for me on the first night that we met," she points out firmly. "So, if anything, it only means that we're even now."

Itachi makes the slightest sound of amusement in the back of his throat. "I could learn to accept that logic," he deadpans.

Sakura represses a traitorous giggle as she leans back against him; he's removed his hand from her hair and brought both arms back to himself somewhat stiffly. This, as she has learned in the past couple of weeks, means that he has exhausted his cuddling quota for the day – no more than five consecutive minutes, at most – but Itachi allows her to press against him without comment, even though he does not reciprocate the contact. "So," Sakura mumbles, rubbing the drowsiness away from her eyes; her internal clock is telling her that it is late evening, bleeding into night, and her every instinct is insistently demanding that, after the physically and emotionally draining day, she should just shut up and sleep. "You, Pein…"

Her words trail off in a yawn as she lifts a hand to rub her thoroughly stiffened neck, tilting her head toward the ceiling, and Itachi watches her unblinkingly. "Would you prefer that I put the interactions in terms that you will find easily understandable?" he inquires tonelessly.

Sakura's first instinct is to curl her leg around and kick him in the shin, but despite her momentarily wounded pride, she rethinks this. Getting Itachi to speak in easily understandable (therefore, _non-_ridiculously-ambiguous) terms is damn near impossible even when they are alone together, and his verbal ambiguousness and evasiveness is only amplified times one hundred when he is talking with the likes of potential threats like Madara and Pein. She doesn't even want to imagine the verbal tightrope that having a compromising conversation of this nature with Pein would be like.

"Sure," Sakura sighs, feigning reluctance.

Itachi does not look convinced in the least, but he complies without argument. "In very concise terms," he states, sounding very nearly bored. "In essence – he thanked us."

Sakura chokes on nothing but the dry air, unable to keep her shock concealed. "_What_?"

Itachi only shrugs one shoulder; it is one of the few informal gestures that he has unconsciously picked up from her, and it makes Sakura smirk a little every time she sees him do it. "I told you that he and Konan have always had their own ambitions as to how to run this organization," he replies smoothly, obviously finding it within himself to enjoy the blatantly confused response that he is so obviously eliciting from her. "I cannot be fully sure, but it seems likely that our assassination attempt saved Pein and Konan from fully crafting one of their own. Madara has always manipulated Pein, and there is only so much of that that one can take. Pein and Konan have been biding their time, waiting for the opportune moment to strike and for Madara to weaken even more completely – but it would have been quite dangerous and difficult for them, as Madara was always more suspicious of every one of Konan's actions than he was even of my own. "

Sakura can't help but lean back against the headboard, overwhelmed, as she places the heels of her hands over her eyes. "I can't believe it," she manages, her voice muffled somewhat. "What the _hell_. No wonder Konan was so…nice to me."

For a few moments, both of them are utterly silent, alone with their thoughts, and, surprisingly enough, Itachi is the first to break the silence. His tone is a little bit less effortlessly even and emotionless this time around, though, and it makes Sakura blink. "The Leader also…informed me of the decision that he and Konan agreed that she would offer you," he manages at last, and even though he does not want to, Itachi observes Sakura subtly and intently, looking for even the tiniest hint as to her thoughts that may present herself through her body language.

And briefly, he wonders if it is wrong of him to quietly, privately revel in the emotional confliction and confusion that are so clearly revealed by the way her fingers tremble slightly as they push a lock of hair behind her ear. Because Sakura should never be even thinking about it. Her heart and her loyalty are supposed to be devoted to Naruto and Konoha _only_, and yet, she is confused and torn and hurting at the very prospect of what Konan had offered her, and kami help him, but Itachi likes it – the fact that, somehow, she has come to care for him enough to even contemplate such an idea. An idea that goes against all of her morals and personal beliefs and previously held hopes for her own future.

His mother's voice speaks, unbidden, and it is chiding and firm in a way that it is hardly ever. _Selfish, _she says disapprovingly. _If you love her as much as you think you do, then you will let her go – let this be a brief, although unforgettable, chapter in her life – and then let her move on and be truly happy, as she will never be with—_

For the first time in perhaps forever, Itachi purposely, coldly shuts off the voice, because, with Sakura, even though he is more than a little bit ashamed of it – he _wants _to be selfish.

"What should I do?"

Her voice is too quiet, barely audible even in the forced, tense hush that has fallen over the room, and the question surprises Itachi. Sakura is and has always been headstrong and fiercely independent; she makes her own decisions, no matter what the circumstances, and the fact that she is asking his opinion for the first time, for something as important as this, utterly sets his nerves on edge.

For her part, Sakura just fixes her gaze determinedly on the dark red blankets. She doesn't know why she is asking him, because, hell, she doesn't even listen to most people's advice, unless it came from Tsunade-shishou or Kakashi-sensei. She doesn't know if she wants Itachi to tell her if she should stay or go, because both options would hurt her so much, but she just completely, irrationally wants him to say _something_, anything.

They are both quiet for a long time, until finally, for the briefest of moments, Itachi simply moves his hand to rest on the small of her back. He is staring at some fixed point above her head, and she is staring at his collarbone, at the healed slash mark where Madara had cut him. "To thine own self be true," Itachi comments quietly, seemingly out of the blue, and, well, Sakura just stares_, _lost for words_._

"…Did you just quote poetry at me?" she finally asks disbelievingly, the novelty of the situation startling her even out of her gloom.

Itachi removes his hand and retreats back into his own personal bubble, looking somewhat irritated that she has failed to grasp the significance of his statement. "Shakespeare," he replies tersely. "And I mean what I said, Sakura."

Briefly, Sakura isn't fully sure what to feel, her emotions warring somewhat inside her – but finally, one in particular just barely wins out, and she smiles a little, the gesture feeling utterly unfamiliar on her lips. "Aww, Itachi," she says wickedly, in the too-sweet tone that she uses whenever she is making an obvious point of flirting with him…which really hasn't happened in way too long. Because she loves him so much – she really does, and even though Sakura doesn't know how far she's going to go to _show _him that in the long term, she can make up for it now. She wants to make him feel loved enough to forget about the choice that she might or might not make, and on top of that, she had almost lost him today, and regardless of Itachi's personal romantic hang-ups, right now, Sakura just wants to be as close to him as possible, and take advantage of every moment that they have left.

"You're sharing your love of poetry with me!" Sakura continues mischievously, her voice fairly dripping a gag-worthy amount of saccharine sweetness. "How lovely…"

Itachi's expression immediately undergoes the few minute twitches that result in making him look completely disgusted. Unfazed, Sakura leans over and flings her arms around his neck in an embrace packed with enough force to almost fully throw his back down against the bed, and in response to his unquestionably displeased – but still totally sexy – growl of protest, she nuzzles her nose against his neck playfully, locking one leg around his hips.

Privately, Itachi marvels at the fact that _this _is the incredibly skilled, A-ranked kunoichi – and now, likely the most accomplished medic-nin in the world – who had very recently managed to defeat one of the most powerful shinobi in existence. "Your immaturity while in non-professional situations never ceases to disturb me," he informs Sakura coolly, unaffected by her affectionate ministrations.

Sakura just smirks at him by way of reply, arching her back and pressing her chest up against his flirtatiously as she stretches up to kiss Itachi on the cheek, feeling the slightest scrape of five-o-clock shadow against her lips. "But you know you like it," she breathes into his ear, locking her hands around the back of his neck and rolling over from her side to her back, before roughly pulling him down on top of her.

Itachi cannot recall another time that Sakura has been this overtly flirtatious and borderline sexual with him – but then, all shinobi have their ways of dealing with intense stress, and although, for him, _this _is not one of them, he knows all too well that the pink-haired kunoichi can be damn near irresistible even when she isn't trying.

So Itachi gives her what she wants without even a moment's warning, suddenly kissing her so hard that it takes Sakura's breath away, and pressing her into the mattress with his not-painful but still strong, dominating grip. No matter how many times they've exchanged heated, passionate kisses like this; she doesn't think she'll ever get used to how it makes her feel. Maybe the inherent wrongness is supposed to be every teenage girl's deepest, darkest fantasy, but Sakura is fairly certain that there is nothing driving those fantasies except lust, curiosity, desire – not love, twisted, tangled, and pure and scarily and desperately and confusingly overwhelming.

Her fingers are tangled in Itachi's hair, with one of his hands slipping under the hem of her crimson vest and the backs of his knuckles brushing lightly against her ribs as they slowly work their way upward. It feels so good, in a way that still does little to soothe the persistent ache inside, but he's making her forget everything but him, and right now, that's all that Sakura wants.

But then he pulls away, all too suddenly, and in one smooth tug of his hand on her back, Sakura is sitting up as well, feeling more than a little disoriented.

"Take a shower," Itachi decrees quite seriously, ignoring the confused expression that is slowly spreading over his lover's face.

"What?" Sakura fairly yelps, distressed, because she knows that it has been a horribly difficult day and she probably looks terrible anyway – what with the dried blood and various bits of Madara's…internal organ fluids…staining her hair and clothes and seeping onto her skin – but she is fairly sure that he's not supposed to care about something so trivial. Besides, Itachi's gotten her all wound up and she doesn't want to wait, and more than that, she doesn't want to be alone in the shower for forty-five minutes; alone with her thoughts and memories, so— "Why?"

"Because you smell like Madara's blood," Itachi informs her curtly, the briefest of shadows crossing his eyes.

_Well. Talk about a mood killer._

Sakura's face falls ever so slightly, before she recovers herself somewhat and gives Itachi a nonplussed look in return. "Yeah, well, you smell like _your _blood, and I don't get off on that, either."

Itachi and Sakura stare each other down for a short while, and surprisingly, the pink-haired kunoichi is the first to concede. "Fine," Sakura sighs exaggeratedly, and she throws her hands up in the air exasperatedly, sliding off the bed and making her way over to the adjacent bathroom, her hips taking on their customary irritated sway. "But you should, too."

For some reason, she gives him a rather pointed look as she closes the door behind her, and Itachi just stares at it, equally confused.

Five long minutes later, to his quiet surprise, the door slams open again, and Sakura, clothed in nothing but a towel and looking somewhat amused for some utterly unfathomablereason, slinks back out, crosses the room, and, without any form of warning whatsoever, grabs Itachi by the hand and begins to tug him toward the bathroom. "You really just _don't_ get it, do you?"

-

"…I do not understand. What is the purpose of this activity? It seems incredibly counterproductive and it takes away from the intended objective of the entire experience."

"It's supposed to be sexy and fun, Itachi. And it saves hot water. Besides, if you're _that _worried about it 'taking away from the intended objective of the entire experience', we can always lather each other up, rinse, and repeat. That could actually be a lot of fun, come to think of it."

"I still do not think that this is a wise idea."

"You're going to love it. Trust me. After tonight, you'll be begging to shower with me every day so that you can be treated to my incredibly luxurious strawberry shampoo and conditioner."

"…Highly unlikely, Sakura. And I feel that I must disillusion you of the idea that you are going to come within even a foot of me while armed with those…vile hair care products."

One suggestive eyebrow raise, and Itachi realizes that he hates to love the way the hot water is making Sakura's bare skin flush. "Oh, really?" she asks skeptically, closing her eyes against the flow of water, before tilting her head back and running her fingers through her hair, carefully working all the dried gore and grime out of it. If it were not for the inherent nature of what they are doing together, it would be an innocent gesture, and for one dizzying, overwhelming moment, all that it makes Itachi want to do is wrap his arms around Sakura from behind; pull her close against him and kiss her hair, nuzzle against her ear, feel her drop her head back against his shoulder and give one of her little sighs of contentment. It is hardly a feeling that Itachi has ever experienced before, but right now, after all that has happened today, he just wants to forget about everything except Sakura. And, momentarily, he understands what she must be feeling, as well – the temptation to forget everything in the past, ignore any thoughts or misgivings or sense of foreboding about the future, and simply live in the moment. With him. Because Madara is gone, and for the first time in years, Itachi feels alarmingly, dizzyingly…_free._

This small and rather characteristic amount of intense self-contemplation having been successfully completed, Itachi takes hold of his own bottle of blessedly masculine pine-and-spearmint shampoo, squeezing a decent-sized handful into one open palm, as he observes the completely unaware Sakura, who still has her back to him and her eyes squeezed shut in order to shield them from the jets of steaming water.

"Lather, rinse, and repeat, you said?" he inquires tonelessly.

Sakura's lips can't help but curve into a small smile at the mere thought that, for once, he might actually cooperate with one of her _relationship-_esque ideas. "Yeah, just like that – oh my god, _Itachi_!"

To her everlasting displeasure and his satisfaction, the last word comes out more as a scream, and Itachi gives Sakura a slightly predatory smirk as he readjusts his hold on her. He feels her definitely positive-sounding gasp as he pins the front of her body gently against the steamy tiles, trapping her arms behind her back with his body, as he begins to work his shampoo into her long, thick pink locks with both hands. "You could be right," Itachi observes, deceivingly dispassionate. "This is actually quite enjoyable. Now, stay still, Sakura. I still need to find my shower gel."

-

_The Next Morning_

-

Sakura's eyes open slowly, blearily, and for a few moments – this sense of perpetual disorientation is getting really old – she is unsure as to her surroundings. This isn't a hotel room; this isn't the Akatsuki kitchen – she is firmly ensconced in a pleasantly warm bed, enveloped in one of Itachi's too-big black t-shirts, and snuggled contently under a few layers of blankets to keep the perpetual chill that pervades the Akatsuki headquarters at bay.

Finally, her memories start slowly seeping back, and Sakura closes her eyes again and buries her head into the warm pillow, more than a little overwhelmed at the mere recollections of yesterday. In all honesty, she does not know how she survived the entire experience. Thanks to the shower that she had shared with Itachi, the physical remnants of the fight with Madara are gone – but the soreness in her arms from wielding the katana, and the nightmares that had plagued her sleep…offering every possible scenario that featured things going horribly wrong, both still linger. They are nightmares of Itachi dying, mostly, of _her _dying, of both of them dying and Madara inexplicably surviving, and a Shakespeare-esque one of all three of them just managing to kill one another before succumbing to death themselves—

As a medic-nin, Sakura has studied psychological trauma as a result of particularly vicious conflicts and near-death encounters, so, with a slow, sinking certainty, she knows that, no matter how hard she and Itachi try to distract themselves and each other from the memories of what had happened and almost happened yesterday, they will be feeling the emotional and psychological ramifications for a long time to come.

She takes a few deep, steadying breaths in an attempt to calm herself and ease her rattled nerves a little; slowly inhaling the soothing scent of pine and spearmint that has completely overwhelmed the entire area. To Sakura's intense dissatisfaction, Itachi had pounced on her with _his _soap and shampoo, and then point-blank refused to even entertain any ideas of using her luxurious strawberry-scented products. She has to admit that it's really not that bad, though – she is curled up against him right now, with one of Itachi's arms holding her closely and almost protectively against his chest, and since he usually wakes up and extricates himself from whatever embrace they had fallen into during the course of the night a good hour before Sakura even stirs from sleep, it is a pleasant change from the usual routine.

She breathes in; her face turned against his neck, and Sakura can feel Itachi's pulse, steady and reassuring, against her lips, as his fingers twitch a little in his sleep, reflexively pulling her a little closer to him.

It is so contradictory from what he is like normally, and it feels nice. Like something that she could get used to.

_Don't even think it_, Sakura cautions herself sharply, before she has the chance to follow the thought to completion.

Just in case, she cautiously extricates herself from Itachi's arms, careful not to disturb him. He is sleeping unusually soundly, though, the aftereffects of his extreme injuries and the equally extreme healing session likely taking its toll on him, and he doesn't even stir in the time it takes for Sakura to slide out of bed. She makes her way to the bathroom slowly, rubbing the last vestiges of sleep out of her eyes until she feels completely and totally awake, and even though she would approximate it must be only around nine in the morning, her mind is already whirring at its usual speed as she shuts the bathroom door behind her and reaches for her toothbrush.

Last night, as Itachi had been running his chakra-warmed hands through her hair in an attempt to dry it faster, they had ended up talking about their eventual plans after…this. He had said that even though Pein and Konan were on pleasant terms with the two of them, it wouldn't be necessary to linger at the Akatsuki headquarters any longer than necessary. Besides, the underground cavern is just too gloomy and depressing for Sakura's tastes, and she gets the impression that Itachi isn't all too fond of it, either. He suggested that they restock on supplies at some point today – using the warehouses on the opposite side of the small town, which all Akatsuki members and affiliates apparently had free and complete access to – and then leave immediately afterward.

Sakura opens the bathroom door a tiny bit, peering speculatively at Itachi. He is still deeply, completely asleep; from the looks of it, he will be for at least three more hours. She doesn't want to wake him, but she doesn't particularly want to wait around for that long, either.

She and Itachi had crossed through Rain on their way in, after all, Sakura reasons, and she knows her way around the area. It would be so much better if she could just slip out quietly right now, and get back with all the supplies by the time Itachi woke up. Naturally, he would refuse to cooperate with such an idea – Itachi being protective is honestly ninety percent infuriating, nine percent ridiculous and irrational, and a mere one percent cute – but he's asleep and totally unaware, so…

Her mind now made up, Sakura quickly and quietly dresses in her customary outfit, which she had thoroughly washed, scrubbed, dried, and ironed last night. For a moment, she considers the necessity of showering again, but shrugs that idea aside – she still smells pleasantly and strongly of Itachi's pine and spearmint shampoo and shower gel, after all, and there are no guarantees that the sound of the shower won't wake him up.

After a few seconds of indecision, she ends up grabbing her bag, immediately before sticking a small note on the pillow that she had been sleeping on, so that it will be the first thing he sees when he wakes. It is brief, just, '_gone to get supplies, don't freak out or throw a hissy fit and come looking for me; I'll be back in a couple of hours, at most – love, Sakura,_' but it is enough, and she slips out of the door, throwing a wary glance over her shoulder at her still-sleeping partner.

The walk from Itachi's room to the kitchen – which he had informed her was the easiest point of transport into and out of the Akatsuki headquarters – is short, but doing it alone is more than a little nerve-wracking. Sakura keeps expecting the violent blonde artist, or worse, Sasori, to emerge out of the shadows at any moment; to emerge after every corner she turns. She keeps her fingertips trailing the wall, taking each step cautiously, but her memory serves her right, and eventually, Sakura finds herself walking into the circular kitchen that she had woken in, yesterday. It is just as dimly lit, with the same small lamps burning, and still smells like shrimp tempura, although this time, there is the faint scent of jasmine tea hovering in the still air – likely coming from the abandoned, half-empty ivory ceramic cup sitting in the middle of the largest table.

The utter stillness and quietness is somewhat unnerving, and Sakura glances around warily, placing her back to the wall on instinct. It takes a moment for her to remember the exact sequence of hand seals, coupled with the correct concentrations of chakra upon delivery of each one – Itachi had been in an unusually unguarded state of mind last night – but after only one try, the floor wrenches violently beneath her feet. And one dizzying, disorienting moment later, Sakura is standing on the surface of the empty field directly above the Akatsuki headquarters, trying her best to fight the sudden wave of nausea that has overwhelmed her, as a result of crossing the barrier defense that protects the headquarters from its surroundings.

Predictably enough, the sky is gray and it is drizzling slightly; the rain a fine, chilling mist that settles over Sakura's clothes and skin and seems to sink straight through into her bones. The knee-high grass slaps against her boots and clings to them as she gingerly makes her way out of the field, careful to avoid getting stuck in any puddles of mud.

Rain is just as uncannily deserted as it had been yesterday morning, and although this time, Sakura knows what to expect, the ghostlike quality of the area that she is passing through still makes her shiver a little. Save for the sound of the gusting wind, tearing through the worn, withered trees that border the path that she is taking, it is deathly quiet. Nothing about the town changes as she studiously retreads the path that she and Itachi had taken yesterday, except for her surroundings slowly transforming from boarded-up stores and homes, to a sprawling complex of towering, expansive, and darkened warehouses.

This would have to be Rain's 'business' sector, of course, although Itachi had told her that it was almost completely inactive during monsoon season, which is currently – as evidenced by the weather – in full swing. A quick scan of her surroundings confirms that there aren't even guards at the doors, which, of course, sets Sakura's nerves on edge just a little, but one reading of the premises with her chakra confirms that all of the buildings are completely empty.

Sakura ducks into the first and largest of the warehouses, re-shouldering her bag, and even though the building is terribly lit; with old, flickering and yellowed lightbulbs interspersed erratically throughout the ceiling, throwing strange shadows through the rows and rows of dustily packaged materials, she can still see enough to get by.

Sakura isn't sure how long she just makes her way through the large, expansive area, absentmindedly sweeping the requisite supplies – basic medical necessities which she is running low on, weaponry, and food – off the shelves, although she is careful to keep note of her exact path through the warehouse, and her distance from each of the nearest exits, just in case. A pang of sudden, inexplicable loneliness washes over her, though; as she takes a somewhat decent-looking packet of beef-flavored instant ramen noodles and places it into her bag. Everything that she has done in Rain – everything concerning Madara…had been done for Naruto. Despite the companionship and rare comfort that Itachi offers her, missing Naruto – her inspiration, her best friend – is an ache that never really goes away. She can't wait to see him again – explaining everything is going to be difficult, to say the least, but Sakura is sure that he will understand. He _has _to understand. She loves Naruto too much to be able to even think about the possibility of his turning against her because of the (wrong?) decisions that she has made since leaving Konoha.

Unconsciously, Sakura bites her lip, worried despite herself, as she glances uneasily down at her bag. It is full of everything that she thinks she and Itachi will need for the time being, so there really isn't any point in lingering. The sooner that they can get out of here, the sooner she can find Naruto and talk to him.

Steeling her resolve once again, Sakura turns around, back toward the slightly more well-lit area of the warehouse, leading to the way she had come in. She is about thirty rows and three columns away from it; perhaps she had wandered too far, being as lost in her thoughts as she was. The rain seems to have picked up quite a bit more; the steady pounding of the raindrops on the rusted metal roof echoing within the building and almost serving to drown out her own thoughts, as well as the sound of even her thick-heeled boots against the cold concrete floor. There is no way of telling for sure, but the way that the lightbulbs are flickering even more precariously, with some of them even going completely dark, there is probably lightning outside as well.

Sakura quickens her step unconsciously, sharpening her chakra and instinctively confirming that she is entirely alone in the warehouse. Thus reassured – the exit is near; she can literally feel it – despite her increasingly ominous surroundings, the pink-haired kunoichi never even realizes that anything is amiss until the exact second that she turns the next darkened corner, and crashes headlong into something – or, rather, somebody.

-

At first, she doesn't recognize him, and he doesn't recognize her. This new row, filled with canned soups and preserved, dried meat, is almost completely dark, and both of them are distracted by the sudden clap of thunder that slices through the heavy silence like a knife cutting through tender flesh, making them jump a little.

Both of their first movements are blind and instinctual; Sakura steps back hastily, right hand curling into a fist packed with enough chakra to shatter the nearest wall, but Sasuke grabs her shoulder, steadying it carefully and gently.

"Sorry," they both say, at the same instant (and it would have been pretty damn comical if it had been anybody else in any other situation, Sakura can't help but think, later), and then, they freeze.

There is a long, agonizing moment where Sasuke looks down at her and Sakura looks up at him, and it isn't panic or fear that compels her to flare her chakra up in one split second and vanish into thin air, just the sudden, overwhelming memory of what had happened the last time they had seen each other, and the almost frightening knowledge that Sasuke isn't the person to take such an overwhelming and definitive rejection well. Quite the opposite, as a matter of fact – in the wake of how exactly she had deceived and turned him down last time, things have the potential to get very ugly, very fast. Besides, her being _here_, in Rain, is the kind of thing that will most definitely stir up a whole lot of unwanted and potentially very incriminating questions, and—

Her spine rattles audibly as she is tackled against a wall of solid, unyielding cardboard boxes with rough edges, all of which are filled to the brim with packets of dried fish – which fall to the floor with hollow rattling sounds, getting caught underfoot and making her stumble – and after the initial split second of blinding disorientation, Sakura realizes that he must have thrown himself at her in the fractional moment before she had fully vanished. Her head had collided squarely with the metal shelving just above the boxes her body had hit, sending echoing waves of intense, dizzying pain through her entire head, from the back of her scalp to her forehead, and—

Sasuke's hands are cold as he pins her to the boxes firmly, his fingers digging into the soft skin just above her elbows hard enough to bruise, and even though her vision still has not cleared, Sakura can _feel _the intensity of his spinning, crimson bloodline limit as he fixes it on her disbelievingly. "Sakura?" he asks tersely, the normal icy detachedness in his voice – so much like Itachi's – cracking ever so slightly, giving way into something like cold, chilling anger. "What are you doing here?"

The pink-haired kunoichi responds by yanking her elbow back as fast and hard as she can, before extending it in a vicious punch to his stomach. Sakura is rewarded by a tiny, hastily-repressed gasp of pain on Sasuke's part; the momentary lapse is all she had needed, though. Quick as a flash, she takes advantage of his instinctive relaxation of his grip on her arms to grab both of his wrists and twist them outside and over mercilessly. She is using chakra that would have broken his wrists if not for the heavy, equally chakra-enhanced guards that he wears over his arms, but Sasuke still swears, his voice muffled, as he refuses to let go, instead pressing her entire body back against the boxes with the force of his own.

"I don't particularly want to hurt you," Sakura warns, through gritted teeth, preempting his attempt to speak, as she twists a little bit harder. This is a million kinds of horrible; she remembers kissing him; the almost-tender last words that they had exchanged together (before she had lied to him in a way that _must _have hurt him as much as it did her) and it makes her head spin. He smells of choking ash and rain and smoke; her face is pressed suffocatingly against his neck, and he is actually stepping on her right foot in an attempt to hold her still. "Sasuke, please," she says, more desperately than she would have liked. "I don't know or care why you're here, and it's none of your damned business why _I _am. Let me go, _now, _and we won't have a problem."

Despite the pain that she knows that she is inflicting on him, Sasuke actually laughs a little; the sound is a little bitter and a little scornful, and it is enough to send chills down her spine. For the first time, Sakura regrets doing what she did to him – she should have known that, if he ever found her again, he would be several different kinds of unhappy about the note that they had last parted on. "Unlikely," Sasuke replies coolly. "After all, you were hardly that courteous to _me, _were you, Sakura?"

This time, Sakura cannot help the small snarl of frustration that works its way free of her throat – kami, despite what he had confessed to her last time, she does not think she can ever look at Sasuke without feeling that potent mix of heartache and heartbreak and bitter, crushing, resentment and sense of unforgiving betrayal. Even though it was so long ago, it still feels like the wound had never scabbed over – it is always raw and festering, and his looking at her, touching her, like this, only makes it bleed afresh. "Oh, really?" she retorts acidly, twisting her left foot free and grinding it into his instep, reveling in the hiss of pain that this causes. "You should have thought about that four years ago, Sasuke."

Her moment of triumph is short-lived, though, and before Sakura can even blink, she is suddenly spun around roughly, her chest and face pressing hard against the boxes, with Sasuke pressed against her crushingly from behind. His breath is harsh against her hair and the back of her neck, and she hates how he makes her feel. It is an uncomfortable position, but Sakura elbows him as hard as she can; her skin makes contact with the rough black flak vest that he wears, and it doesn't hurt him as much as it should. Sasuke ignores it, instead leaning even closer, and she closes her eyes angrily, thinking as hard as she can – and knowing, with a too-cold certainty, from her encounters with Itachi, that an Uchiha with a wounded pride is perhaps the most dangerous of all.

"Sakura," Sasuke manages, at last. His voice is slightly rough and a little hoarse, betraying the full range of emotion that it is capable of. "Please…tell me – why did you—"

Sakura actually hisses out of sheer rage, jerking her head back and butting him with it – it hurts, but the pain is worth it. "Damn it, Sasuke," she snarls, voice trembling with barely repressed emotion. "I don't owe you _any _explanations."

"Are you going to keep throwing that back in my face, Sakura?" he replies sharply, fisting one hand in her hair and using it to push her face back against the boxes, and the iciness of his voice cuts her like a blade. "You know why I left. You know that I _had _to leave, in order to become stronger; to reach my full potential, to kill—"

Sasuke stops dead, his breathing suddenly becoming a little uneven and his fingers relaxing in her hair. And, kami help her; Sakura knows that she should be feeling sympathy for him – for knowing that he now knows everything that Itachi had sacrificed for him; that Itachi really was the loving brother that Sasuke had known as a young child, before the Uchiha massacre. But instead she laughs a little bitterly, twisting around to face him. "To fulfill your twisted, unhealthy obsession with revenge. To kill your brother…Itachi. Yeah. Trust me, I know."

Maybe something had shone through her defiant gaze that shouldn't have, because in the next second, something slight and indefinable shifts sharply in Sasuke's crimson eyes. He is suspicious in a way that he shouldn't be, and before Sakura can even think of the most advantageous attack to use in this situation, Sasuke is _close_, close enough to make her freeze; make her blood run cold and send a traitorous shiver across every exposed inch of skin. It is the sharp blade of his nose, running down the column of her throat carefully as he just breathes her in, like…like a wolf catching the scent of his prey. And _hell_, she could have responded to any attack, _any _freaking attack that he could have even thought of throwing at her – just not…this.

Sakura's eyes are wide with shock and kind-of confusion by the time Sasuke pulls back, meeting her stunned gaze with a curiously flat, blank one of his own. All the excess emotion seems to have been drained from his countenance; all the anger and indignation and wounded pride, leaving only the old icy, detached, seeming indifference…betrayed only by the barely-there quivering of intense emotion behind the depths of his eyes.

"Why," Sasuke states, at last, his tone soft and cold and deadly, like he is pouring burning acid on her with every word, "do you smell just like my brother, Sakura?"

His tone demands an answer, just as surely as if he had been holding the point of the katana strapped across his back to her throat, but Sakura only returns his gaze evenly. A small part of her, deep down inside, is screaming. Itachi knew that Sasuke _didn't _know that he was once again alive – and she never wanted to get involved in the twisted, convoluted relationship between the two surviving Uchiha. The answer to this has implications that she can barely wrap her mind around, but—

"_Answer me._"

The words come out almost as a snarl as Sasuke presses her painfully against the boxes anew – the only issue in the world that has ever gotten him to show this much open emotion is, of course, Itachi – but Sakura looks back at him fearlessly. She can see a little bit of the boy she remembers from years ago, now, and it is almost reassuring, knowing that he can stillfeel something besides pure hatred and that sick, obsessive thirst for revenge. It is mingled despair, hope, confusion, anger, and—

She doesn't say it to be vindictive, or to save herself from getting stabbed through the stomach with his katana – an option which looks like it increases in possibility with every passing second. Sakura only says it because she knows that Sasuke probably already knows; that he's smart enough to figure out the truth.

"Shouldn't it be obvious?" Sakura asks quietly, taking one of his hands in her own and gently prying his fingers free of her arm – as much as to free herself from his grip, as to give Sasuke something to hold on to, because needless to say, this revelation will send his world spinning on its axis.

The blunt, softly spoken words hang between them heavily, and Sasuke's jaw clenches, and for one slow, cold moment, she actually thinks that he is going to hit her. But he does not, and Sakura does nothing but study him warily as he takes a deep, ragged breath, closing his eyes for a moment.

She has never seen Sasuke look so unguarded, not even during the kisses they had shared during their last encounter. It is – scary, a little, but strangely fascinating, seeing one of the strongest shinobi of her generation (Sasuke, _her _Sasuke) break into a million pieces so quietly and unmovingly before her very eyes, and then slowly, painstakingly, begin to put himself back together.

Sasuke releases her all of a sudden, turning away abruptly, his black-clad back to her. His long hair has become disheveled during their struggle, and even though Sakura knows that she should probably just leave, despite everything, despite her words and actions earlier…this was once her teammate; one of her closest friends; her first love.

So she takes a step forward and bravely reaches up to place one hand on his back, as lightly and nonthreateningly as she possibly can. Sasuke flinches, but makes no move to shrug her off as he once would have done, and for what feels like a long time, there is no sound between them save for the almost painful drag of Sasuke's breaths and the pounding of the rain on the roof of the warehouse.

"You're not going to question me?" Sakura manages, at last, as stunned by his apparent acceptance and trust in her words, as by the seeming lack of curiosity as to the specifics. "I mean – when I first saw him…I couldn't believe it. Since Chiyo and…Tsunade-shishou were both dead, and they were the only shinobi who could perform resurrection techniques – for a moment, I honestly thought that there was something…supernatural…at work, instead."

Sasuke still does not face her, but he makes a soft sound in the back of his throat somewhat reminiscent to what Itachi does, on occasion. "Why would you lie?" he asks flatly. "Besides – his scent…his chakra signature…they're all over you – your skin, your hair. And I should have known that Itachi was too powerful for Madara to just let him die."

Sakura rubs her hand in a small, comforting circle around his left shoulder blade, before slowly withdrawing. Sasuke does not turn to face her, but his head is bowed slightly, and they are standing close together enough so that she actually feels his soft sigh. "Earlier," Sasuke finally says, his voice low and strained. "When we last – met, was it because of…?"

She may have felt what felt like an impossible amount of anger and resentment toward him, but kami, Sakura never wanted to hurt him like this. No good can come out of lying, though, even to spare his feelings, so she simply inclines her head a fraction of an inch. "Yes," she replies quietly.

Sasuke does not move, and Sakura suddenly realizes that she would gladly give up the vision in her left eye in order to know what he is thinking. But he is handling this better than she ever imagined he would; she thought that Sasuke would explode in anger and resentment and unleash a vicious verbal – or physical – attack on her, Itachi, or both of them.

It is in this moment, perversely enough, with the two of them standing in a deserted warehouse in Rain, in the middle of a raging monsoon storm, that Sakura realizes just how much they have grown up and matured. The reality of the disparity of the paths that they have taken, and yet, somehow, how they have still converged.

"Is he here?"

Sasuke's quiet question takes her off guard, and for a moment, Sakura struggles with how to answer. She has always been exceptionally talented at reading body language, though, and there is nothing in Sasuke's physical stance or expression that even indicates any form of hostility.

"Not here, exactly," Sakura murmurs, in response. "At the Akatsuki headquarters." She falls silent for a moment, and then extends the next words tentatively, like the peace offering that it is meant to be. "Do you want to—"

She trails off, interrupted by the slow shake of Sasuke's head. He looks older, somehow, than he had at the beginning of this strange little encounter, and Sakura cannot help but notice that his hair and bangs are just as long as Itachi's, now – Itachi is still a little taller and leaner, but the two of them look startlingly alike. "Not now," Sasuke replies quietly, looking off to the side distantly, the expression in his eyes unreadable.

He half-turns away from her, back toward the exit, but in one moment of heart-stopping impetuousness, Sakura takes one step forward, impulsively catching him by the hand and spinning him back toward her. Sasuke looks cold and faraway and ghost-like again, a quality that he had acquired in his years with Orochimaru, but his eyes widen ever so slightly upon catching sight of the almost pleading look in hers.

"Don't hate him," Sakura says, too fast, tightening her fingers around his. "And don't hate me, although I guess that you would be well within your rights to do so. _Please_."

For a few long moments, Sasuke says absolutely nothing, as he carefully extricates his hand from hers. "He's obviously not a replacement for me," he says, finally, and dispassionately. "I can see what he would see in you – and I know all too well what you would see in him. It won't have the happy ending that you've always wanted, but I don't begrudge Itachi this one…weakness. Although he can never offer you what I can, Sakura, and I know you will remember that." He pauses, regarding the expression of mingled shock and fury in his ex-teammate's wide, apple-green eyes coolly. "But if this is what you really want, then so be it."

He vanishes in a swirl of ash, thick and choking, and rough against her skin as it is blown away by the slight gust of wind emanating from a faraway window that hadn't been boarded up quite so well. His words leave Sakura's hands shaking, a little, and she clenches them into fists to stop it. Her throat hurts a little, for reasons that she doesn't want to think about, and without looking back once, the pink-haired kunoichi takes a few steps forward, ducking her head against the onslaught of the icy rain, and, too conscious of the choices that she is making, makes her way back to the Akatsuki headquarters, cold and alone.

-

Sakura walks back into his room looking like a drowned mouse. She is gritting her teeth together valiantly in order to keep them from chattering, and even though he is across the room, drinking hot tea while leaning contemplatively against a wall, Itachi can practically feel the chill that emanates off her body. His sharp eyes observe the way that her eyes are a little darker than normal, and the tight fists that her hands have curled into, even as she shrugs her full-to-the-point-of-ripping-at-the-seams bag onto the floor with short, terse movements.

"_Don't freak out_?_" _Itachi quotes sardonically. "The complexity of your vocabulary and deep understanding of my reactions to your occasional foolishly impulsive behavior never ceases to astonish me."

Sakura spares a moment to glare at him as she heads toward the bathroom, wringing out her hair on the cold wooden floor as she goes. "Not in the mood," she mumbles indistinctly.

She stands in front of the sink for a little while, rubbing the thick black towel in small, half-hearted strokes across her upper arms, while staring at the floor. It takes Sakura a little while to realize that Itachi has joined her – only after he matter-of-factly confiscates the towel and wraps it around her upper body, letting his hands linger on her shoulders for a fraction of a moment. In response to his unasked question, Sakura just closes her eyes tiredly, tugging the welcome warmth of the towel closer around herself. "Sasuke," she says, by way of explanation.

She literally feels Itachi tense beside her as he takes one step back. "What?" he asks guardedly, although Sakura can hear the barely-concealed strain in his voice.

Sakura offers him a necessarily abridged version of their encounter, refusing to let her voice break at any point, and completely eliminating the entire story about what had happened the last time she and Sasuke had met. She can't read the expression on Itachi's face, and she cannot even imagine what he must be thinking, but Sakura finishes her recount of the events of the past hour with a soft apology, nevertheless. For a while, Itachi is utterly silent, but finally, he lets one of his hands brush against hers. "You have nothing to apologize for," he replies quietly.

They make a strange picture in the mirror, and Sakura glances away, almost guiltily, at the floor. "I should go," she says softly. "I really need to talk to Naruto."

Itachi hardly thinks that this is a wise suggestion – it is only too clear that Sakura had been too emotionally drained by her impromptu encounter with his younger brother, and all of his instincts tell him that an encounter with Naruto, considering his less reserved nature, would only end worse for Sakura. It makes him feel more than a little selfish and unintelligent, but he has never truly taken the time to think about the implications that their relationship will have for her – the conflicts that it will create with the people that she loves most.

"Are you sure?" he asks, but Sakura only gives a somewhat dejected one-shoulder shrug in reply.

"It's now or never. And, I mean…I already talked to Sasuke. It wouldn't be right to not talk to Naruto today, and I need to get this over with. Procrastinating won't do any good – I just need to get over myself and face it."

The words are a little braver than she feels, but thankfully, her voice doesn't waver in the least. Itachi says nothing in response, save for gently tugging the towel off her. He is unsure as to the proper conversational etiquette for such issues – "_good luck, Sakura; I sincerely hope that your closest friend does not feel overly betrayed and fly into a fit of uncontrollable rage upon learning of our…liaison_…"

Sakura interrupts Itachi's rather morose train of thought by standing on the tips of her toes, brushing an almost platonic kiss against his cheek. "I'll be back sometime later, I guess," she murmurs uncertainly.

She vanishes in a swirl of her signature flower petals, without even giving him a moment to respond, and for a few moments, Itachi just stands there, utterly unsure of what to think.

-

_Waterfall_

-

Despite her earlier sense of icy resolve, Sakura is suddenly feeling just about ready to throw up.

Naruto's hand is reassuringly warm in hers as he leads her up the rocky path, and even though she most certainly doesn't need his assistance, Sakura cannot find it within herself to shrug him off. She keeps her gaze fixed determinedly on the floor, as much to combat her increasing sense of vertigo, as to keep her nerves in order. Naruto had assured her that she would find wherever they were going absolutely beautiful, and judging from the telltale rush of water, she has a good idea of exactly where it is going to be.

Still, when the two of them finally step onto the large, circular rock platform immediately behind the huge waterfall, the sight is enough to make the breath catch in Sakura's throat. She can see nothing past the rush of ivory water except the vaguest suggestions of the deep, verdant green of the nearby forest. The almost overwhelming mist and spray from the nearby waterfall is cool and damp enough to stick to her clothes and skin, but the sensation is actually calming her worn nerves quite a bit.

Beside her, Naruto fidgets a little awkwardly. "Jiraiya makes me come up here to meditate sometimes – I always thought that you would love someplace like this."

His earnestness makes her smile – kami, she had missed everything about him so much – and Sakura nods, squeezing his fingers reassuringly. "I love it," she replies truthfully.

Naruto smiles that incredibly huge smile that could light up a room, and with a gentle tug on her hand, the two of them settle down beside each other. A slightly awkward silence falls over them as Sakura focuses on the waterfall, while Naruto looks at the floor, yet to release her hand.

"How are you?" he asks quietly, a different kind of seriousness overtaking his tone. "You know, since…"

Naruto trails off, looking all too uncomfortable, and Sakura suddenly remembers the 'assignment' that Jiraiya had given her the last time they had seen one another – and that, of course, he would have told Naruto about it. Which only makes things more difficult.

Before she can even think about the right thing to say, Naruto sighs deeply, almost painfully, pulling his hand away from her and raking both hands through his shaggy blonde hair. "I'm so sorry, Sakura-chan," he murmurs quietly. "I – I freaked out so bad when he told me. I never wanted you to have to go through anything like that just to help me, or whatever. I don't even matter that much!" he exclaims, in sudden frustration, before falling silent again. "And…I couldn't believe he would ask you to do something like that. I – for the past two weeks, I've been doing everything I can to just not even think about it, because I swear to all the kami, it makes me _sick_."

"Naruto," Sakura says quietly, hating everything about this situation, even as she reaches out and places a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Don't…don't get so worked up about it. You should know that I would do absolutely anything for you. And," – _kami, please stay calm, please don't get sick _– "…you deserve to know exactly what that was," she finishes, meeting his sky-blue eyes squarely.

Naruto actually looks a bit queasy at this. "I respect what you did and I probably owe you my life for it and you're one of the bravest people I know for even considering doing something like that, but I really don't want to know all the, uh, _details_, Sakura-chan—"

"No, Naruto," Sakura interrupts, a little bit more sharply than she had intended to. In response to his curious look, she allows herself the luxury of one short, quiet sigh. "That…that wasn't all. I need you to listen to me, okay? You're probably not going to like all of it, but please. Just listen, and don't talk or interrupt, because…"

Naruto now looks downright wary, but he picks up on her tangible discomfort, taking her hand once again and giving it one reassuring squeeze. "Don't worry, Sakura-chan," he assures her, his tone low and a little strained.

It doesn't make things any easier; her stomach still feels all twisted up in knots, her head spinning, like she's almost at the point of passing out. But Sakura tells Naruto everything, from the very beginning – from the night that Itachi had saved her life, onward. She spares him the gory details, yes, but halfway through, she can't look at him any longer, instead keeping her eyes trained on the waterfall and focusing on the soothing rush of the water, and her voice gets quieter and quieter as it goes on.

But then, she is finished, and the silence between them is all too heavy. Naruto has said nothing for the past half hour, and before Sakura's worried eyes, he just gets up and walks away, standing near the edge of the rock platform and looking out toward the waterfall, his hands curling into fists. Feeling her stomach clench anew, Sakura pulls herself to her feet, following him closely. "Naruto…"

She actually flinches when he slams his fist into the wall of solid rock at his left, sending a circle of spiderweb cracks around the area where his knuckles had made contact. Naruto takes a deep, ragged breath, obviously trying his hardest to keep himself under control. "Are you crazy?" he asks bluntly, the words coming out clipped and more tense than she has heard in a long time. "Damn it, Sakura-chan, I thought you were _over _the whole stupid Sasuke phase—"

"I am!" Sakura interrupts heatedly. "Did you miss _everything_ that I just said, Naruto?"

Naruto laughs bitterly and a little scornfully. "Yeah – think about why you were attracted to Sasuke. Now, think about why you're with _Itachi._"

He spits the name as if it were the vilest of curses, and Sakura steps closer, glaring venomously, so that both of them are just a few inches apart. "Don't you dare imply what I think you are," she hisses. "Itachi is not Sasuke, and—"

Naruto's eyes flash red for a split second. "Can't you see that both of them are just so freaking _wrong _for you?" he explodes. "Don't even deny it. You deserve someone who's not so messed up – who's not so overwhelmed by their own emotional baggage. Someone who can love you and give you all the happiness that you want."

"I am happy!" Sakura yells back, now just as enraged as he is. Her voice echoes around the small cavern, and she hates the way her eyes are burning with repressed tears. "Don't be like this, Naruto! Do you think that I didn't _want _to have a cute, happy, uncomplicated relationship with you? I didn't consciously choose the wrong thing just to spite everybody!"

Naruto is even closer to her now, so she can see the burning emotion in his eyes. "So you admit that it's wrong for you?" he asks coldly. "That you're making all the wrong decisions?"

Sakura turns away in order to regain some more of her composure, raking her fingers through her hair hard. "I'm not going to apologize," she says, through gritted teeth. "It was my choice, and I'm still coming to terms with it, but I don't owe anybody any explanations – not even you."

Naruto just stares at her, looking angrier than she has ever seen him. The betrayal, in more ways than one, is all too evident on every single feature of his face; it couldn't have been more clearly written on him if she had pulled out a kunai and stabbed him through the heart with it, and kami, it is hurting Sakura just as much as it does him.

"Of all the people…" he says slowly, and Sakura closes her eyes momentarily, feeling the weight of each word as the condemnation it is.

"I never meant to hurt you," she manages, feeling more emotionally exhausted than she has in a long time. Sakura feels selfish and vile; like she wants nothing more than to stand at the foot of the waterfall and let the crushing impact of the water wash all the conflict and ache away. This has gone even worse than she imagined it would.

Naruto turns away abruptly, crossing his arms, and a sudden breeze blows, tossing even more mist in their faces. They are standing just a foot away, but Sakura feels so achingly far away from him. "I can't talk to you," Naruto finally says, bluntly. "There's so much I want to say, but…I love you, Sakura-chan, and I don't want to say anything that I'm going to regret later."

_Like you haven't already. _

His words make her heart ache more than a little, and part of her wants to reach forward and hug him, to ask if they're still friends, to beg him to not be angry at her—

"All right," Sakura replies, forcing her tone to stay as even as it can. "I guess I'll…"

"I'll be in touch if I need you," Naruto responds, without even looking back at her. His tone is distant and cool and more similar to Sasuke's now than it ever has been, and Sakura feels so ostracized and lonely that it hurts.

Naruto doesn't move or say anything else, staring into the waterfall intently, with his fingers still curled into a fist against the wall, and Sakura knows, with a kind of melancholy certainty that sinks deep into her bones, that there is nothing more to say here.

Sakura takes a silent step backward (maybe it would have hurt more if Naruto had actually gotten in her face and _told _her to get the hell out of there), turns on her heel, and leaves, in complete silence.

-

_Rain _

-

Itachi finds Sakura standing in the middle of the forest bordering the Akatsuki headquarters. She is nibbling on her fingernails, and he cannot tell whether she is crying or whether it is just the sheets of rain that are cascading down from the slate-gray sky.

He does not even have to ask; Sakura just gives him an incredibly weary look, crossing her arms over her chest. "It was horrible," she says flatly.

Without even sparing him another look, Sakura just walks past, heading toward the middle of the field, and Itachi catches up to her in only a couple of smooth steps. Her hand is cold and her fingers shake a little, in his. "What now?" he asks quietly.

Sakura pulls him along with surprising firmness. "Let's get out of here," she decides impulsively. "I don't care where we go, as long as it's as far away as possible."

"You cannot outrun your problems, Sakura," Itachi comments, his tone low, even as he allows himself to be tugged across the field with her.

Sakura glances back over at him, and her gaze is as nearly defeated as he has ever seen it, even though she attempts a small smile. "I guess," she replies softly. "But that's not going to stop me from trying."

* * *

_to be continued_

* * *

As of the end of chapter, this story is officially beginning its concluding arc, and there will be a timeskip of sorts between the end of this chapter and the beginning of the next one.

I'm getting out of school Thursday of next week, and I still have one more AP test and like three more finals to suffer through until then. As a result, the next chapter will likely be out sometime after May 21. As always, thank you guys so much for your patience and support. It means so much to me. And an extra special thanks to everybody who has ever left a comment, for helping this story get to over one thousand reviews – honestly, this was just some totally random idea that I came up with while bored in math class one day. I never expected so many people to read and enjoy it, and I'm absolutely overwhelmed by this. :) You are all extremely wonderful.

As always, any and all feedback would be very much appreciated.


	19. Confluence

_As always, thank you to everybody who was wonderful enough to leave a review – and, also, I apologize for the late update. _

_-_

_Chapter Nineteen: Confluence_

_-_

_-_

_One and a Half Years Later; The Village Hidden In The Snow_

_-_

"Your status?"

Despite her best efforts to keep it calm and even, her voice wavers in an involuntary response to the cold. There is the slightest of pauses over the thin radio wire that is strapped to Sakura's throat, and then she hears a deafeningly loud rush of icy, sleet-laden wind, made staticky by the radio, and even more pronounced by the fact that the sound is echoed fully over on her end. Wincing, the pink-haired kunoichi draws her heavy black coat closer around her body, pulling the fur-lined turtleneck collar higher over her neck. "Sorry," she whispers, glancing around sharply, and pressing her back against a near-frozen tree, before sinking down into the deep snowdrift at her feet in an attempt to better conceal herself. "Can you repeat that?"

"My designated stretch of the territory is completely empty, as I assume yours is," Itachi replies, the customary terseness – somewhat more obvious than usual; he is reacting no better to the below-freezing temperatures than she is – of his tone still evident, despite the static-filled connection. "As this is the fourth day of our search, considering the utter lack of results, we could assume that the target has already returned to Konoha."

Sakura closes her eyes unhappily, fingers clenching around a fistful of icy snow; the sharp bite of the cold sinks right through her gloves, and her fingers promptly go numb. "We'll stay for another hour," she decides firmly, refusing to let her voice falter. "This is—" _the only thing important enough to make Naruto contact me for the first time in more months than I could count—_

"A necessary endeavor?" Itachi suggests diplomatically.

Sakura smiles a little, even though it does not touch her eyes. "Thanks."

They terminate the connection at the same moment, and, once again, Sakura is left alone with her thoughts. Despite her earlier words, things look slightly hopeless. Naruto's painfully brief and to-the-point missive of a few weeks earlier had mentioned a certain spy that Danzou had been sending through the countries in an attempt to ascertain the exact whereabouts of his 'most wanted' list. _She _had been on that list, along with Shizune, Lee, Tenten, Gai, and of course, Naruto and Jiraiya – along with every one of the numerous Konoha shinobi who had deserted immediately after the coup. Sakura remembers being most surprised to read a certain name on the list, though…Kakashi.

Her former sensei had been apprehended by Root a mere two days after Tsunade's assassination, and strangely enough, not one of them had any idea of what happened to him afterward. There were no records of his incarceration in Danzou's papers or all of Hokage Tower, reported Shikamaru, but Ino, newly apprenticed to Ibiki Morino at the time, had a theory that Kakashi was locked away in one of Konoha's numerous underground prison cells – where he would face starvation, torture, and a whole battery of similarly horrific things that Sakura had always refused to even consider. Naruto, predictably enough, had been more optimistic about the situation; he staunchly maintained that Kakashi would have somehow managed to escape his Root captors, before just getting the hell out of Konoha.

At that time, Sakura hadn't known what to believe – she had just lost one beloved mentor, and couldn't stand the even hypothetical possibility of losing another. But now…seeing Kakashi's name on the list of the spy's targets had given her a tiny bit of hope. Hope that she _wants _to refuse to nurture, because she has metaphorically and physically lost too many people in the past two or so years already, and another disappointment could be too much to bear. But at the same time, Sakura has to ask; why would Kakashi be on Danzou's list, if Danzou ordered Root to kill Kakashi? It _has _to mean that—

_Not going to think about it, _Sakura reminds herself determinedly, shutting her eyes for a brief moment and inhaling the crisp, icy scent of the snow. In any case, Naruto had said that, according to Jiraiya, the spy had already ascertained Shizune's exact location, had a fairly good idea of the area that Team Gai now resided in, and, worst of all, he knew where Naruto and Jiraiya were, as well. The unidentified spy had no idea where _she _was (though not for lack of trying), which made her the perfect candidate to attempt eliminating him before he could return to Konoha and report everybody's location to Danzou.

Which would be a whole lot easier if she could, well, _find _him.

The pressure couldn't be more immense, and it weighs on Sakura's shoulders heavily. From the last sentence in Naruto's letter, the spy was last seen in Snow – the one place in the entire world that she and Itachi had _not _yet gone. Her lips twist in a slightly ironic smile as she remembers her impulsive decision, one and a half years ago…immediately after her first confrontation with Naruto…to just get the hell out of there and leave it all behind; to go wherever the wind took her. To a place that was, hopefully, as far away as possible from Sasuke's strange mix of acceptance and derision, and Naruto's outright rage and too-obvious condescension.

Sakura hadn't joined the Akatsuki to spite Naruto further. She hadn't done it as some twisted form of revenge on him for making her hurt so much she couldn't ever attempt to put it into words.

…She had considered it, though. She didn't do the right thing and determinedly ignore the brand-new, black-and-red patterned cloak that was just her size, folded up neatly and placed in a clear plastic sleeve, right outside of Itachi's bedroom door.

Sakura had dragged it into the bathroom, placed her back to the mirror, and put it on. She hadn't been thinking clearly; her breathing was far too fast, her fingers fumbled on the elegant, small and distinctly feminine silver fastenings, and her normally clear, rational train of thought had been completely overridden by this quiet, uncharacteristically vicious little voice – _do you think _that _was a betrayal, Naruto? I'll show you what it really feels like to have your heart stomped on by your best, best friend—_

Ten minutes later, Itachi walked in, just in time to stop the hysterical sobbing fit that was threatening to start – and to catch Sakura's fist in the fraction of a second before it smashed into the mirror.

In reflection, Sakura can honestly consider the possibility that that day, and the two weeks that followed it, had been one of the darkest periods of her life. Even now, such a long time after, she winces a little, just thinking about it. She isn't a member of the Akatsuki right now – not an official member, anyway, not with a ring, but honestly, that just seems to be a formality, at this point. She and Itachi have spent the past one and a half years fully affiliated with his – _their_? – organization, traveling the world and performing any and every assignment that Konan and Pein had seen fit to give to them. If that

It is something that the younger, less mature her – the fifteen-or-sixteen-year-old Sakura – would never have considered doing, not in a million separate eternities. But, as mindblowing of a concept as _that _Sakura would have found it, this new life that she had stumbled into actually isn't so bad. She has monthly tea-drinking sessions with Konan, had once engaged in a somewhat awkward conversation about the weather with Pein, and even played a game of poker with Itachi and his former partner, Kisame, in the dead of night, while she and Kisame shared a bottle of sake and spent most of their time and energy focusing on futilely attempting to get Itachi to take at least one sip.

On days like this, though, when it is frigid and icy and she is knee-deep in snow, Sakura still isn't sure whether she regrets it. Whether she regrets not following through with her too-frequent impulses, in those first two weeks after her fight with Naruto, to just…leave. To return to the relationships and world that she had grown up with and loved and embraced in all of its glorious familiarity and sheer _right_-ness.

The very memory of those feelings, of that time, is enough to make her skin flush a little with shame, even in the freezing cold. Sasuke and Naruto's words – kami, aside from Ino and Tsunade-shishou, they were the two people she cared most about in the entire world – had made her feel so incredibly horrible, vile and dirty from the inside out, like the entire aspect of her life that they had been so opposed to had been nothing but a mistake. She had almost withdrawn from her relationship with Itachi completely, in the wake of what had happened with the remnants of her team.

She hadn't, obviously. _Thankfully_, Inner Sakura comments offhandedly…but it had still been close. One night, when her bag had been half packed, and Sakura had been in the midst of writing a letter to Naruto telling him of her decision, she had almost pleaded with Itachi do to something, anything, to convince her not to. In response, he only sat silently for no less than two minutes, staring fixedly at the night sky, and he kept his gaze riveted on the largest, clearest constellation visible as he told her that he loved her. Itachi's voice had stayed determinedly flat and toneless, but had caught for the briefest of moments on the very last syllable of her name, and for a few long moments, Sakura was convinced that she had misheard him. But then, before she even realized what she was doing, she had crumbled to her knees and flung her arms around his shoulders, completely overwhelmed.

Things between them have been all right, since then. Neither of them has ever talked about it or in any other way acknowledged the happenings of that night under the stars – and Itachi has never even come close to saying it again, as far as Sakura knows. She still doesn't understand how that one simple action; those four short words, could have made everything so very worth it, but…it was the reason she didn't go back to Naruto. The reason why he still hasn't talked to her or sent her a letter more than five lines long; all of them entirely impersonal. It – kami, she knows she needs to get over it, but something like that from her best friend…it's harder to get over than it sounds. She knows, with a complete, all-encompassing certainty that she had never felt with Naruto, that Ino would accept her relationship with Itachi and be happy for the fact that Sakura, her best friend, was loved and in love and happy, but…Sakura expected that level of maturity and consideration from Naruto as well, and the lack of it truly did hurt her.

_Maybe he'll forgive me if I get this spy, _Sakura tries to convince herself determinedly, blinking against the tears that the icy wind is bringing to her eyes. Maybe it would be atonement enough for what he considers to be her most monumental (and only) transgression. The reasoning, and her own thoughts, sound pathetic, even to herself, but it can't hurt to hope, right?

All of Sakura's muscles tense as the thin, transparent radio wire strapped to her throat vibrates ever so slightly. "It has been an hour, Sakura," her partner's voice murmurs; now that the wind has hit a momentary lull, it sounds as clear as it would if he were standing right beside her.

_Oh, kami. _Sakura feels her heart drop somewhere into the region of her stomach, as she directs another dismayed glance around the area. She doesn't realize that she had sighed the words aloud, under her breath, until she hears Itachi's typically calm, detached response. "Tomorrow," he tells her, just as he has for the past three days.

Sakura smiles a little bitterly this time, driving the thick heel of her boot into a particularly impacted section of gray, hardened snow. "Yeah. Sure."

There is a moment of silence between them, and the pink-haired kunoichi doesn't know exactly how or when it happened, but she can somehow tell just what Itachi is thinking; that he is currently somewhat at a loss as to understanding how desperately she needs this forgiveness from Naruto. Sakura doesn't need to be a genius to know that Itachi doesn't like being thought of as, alternatively and sometimes simultaneously, as her biggest "mistake" – and one of the best things that had ever happened to her.

She looks up at the stormy gray sky, and a few snowflakes flutter down slowly, land on her face, and melt on contact. "I'll see you back home, then," Sakura continues, forcing her tone into some semblance of something light and carefree. "I'll buy us some food first, though…"

Itachi murmurs his acquiescence, before the radio line goes silent, and now that there is no need to make a pretense any longer, Sakura's face falls a little. Gracelessly shoving her hands into her deep and thankfully fur-lined pockets, she continues forcing her way through the snowed-over path back into town. The snow crunching beneath her feet and the air itself are getting grayer and generally dirtier as she returns to the outskirts of the small town bordering the Village Hidden in Snow. Under any other circumstances, she would have loved this whole…experience, of seeing the only part of the world that she hasn't, yet, but every fiber of her being is focused entirely on finding and eliminating the spy, in order to redeem herself somewhat, and that has been a rather futile endeavor thus far.

Sakura kicks a frozen-over, fallen branch out of the icy street moodily; it skids a good thirty feet through the snow, back into the forest. She isn't looking forward to writing back to Naruto and Jiraiya and telling them that she had failed. Even worse, though, is that this continuous lack of success is quickly becoming a sharper and sharper thorn in the side; for the past one and a half years, she and Itachi had completed thousands of beyond S-ranked assignments that had been an absolute breeze. Now, a month past eighteen, Sakura _feels _like she's twice the kunoichi that she was – and, due to the admittedly high standards set by the Akatsuki, she has become somewhat unaccustomed to failure of this nature. Tsunade-shishou had always warned her against the dangers posed by excessive pride and overconfidence in one's own abilities, but…it is an easy trap to fall into; she can see that now.

To make things worse, finding a spy should have been easy, too – save for the fact that this certain individual, according to Jiraiya, is one of Danzou's top subterfuge specialists. Shizune had reported catching glimpses and detecting the inadequately masked chakra of a suspicious-looking short, blonde man, while Tenten had written to Jiraiya that the person who she suspected of subtly tailing her team was of above average height and wore his long red hair in a ponytail. Both Tenten and Shizune had stated that the few stray strands of chakra that they had detected were of the Earth type, which, according to medical statistics, is extremely rare. Naruto, also, had seen an individual who didn't match the physical description of the shinobi sighted by Tenten and Shizune – but who also had earth-type chakra, as well. All of this had happened about two months ago, though, and Sakura is willing to bet that whoever this mysteriously disguised spy is, he has become aware of the lapse on his part by now, and has long since fixed it.

More than a little dejected, Sakura nudges the dingy glass door of the grocery store aside, the warmth from her gloved fingers slightly condensing the thin layer of frost that has settled over the glass. The reflection that she catches a momentary glimpse of, as the door swings open, is a stranger. Her mid-back length, formerly pink hair is now a sleek, shiny shade of deepest black; she had asked Itachi to change it to any color with a genjutsu earlier in the week, because really, how foolish would she have to be, to run around with her most distinctive physical feature so obviously exposed – especially since the spy has been confirmed to be in this area? She had lacked the heart to tell Itachi, but she isn't really a fan of the black, though; it is a bit too nondescript for her tastes and makes her face look too thin and pale, but Itachi had stroked her hair for a few moments, a somewhat detached look in his eyes, and told her that it looked almost as beautiful on her as her natural hair color.

The small store is messy, utterly overcrowded with every sort of edible item imaginable, and disorganized, with cabbages spilling randomly out of shelves and scattered at erratic intervals over the stained tile floors. The whole place is lit with dimly flickering, poor-quality and entirely exposed yellow lightbulbs, and the store reeks so strongly of fermenting pickled eggplant that it makes Sakura cough and stifle a retch. Hastily, she ducks her head and covers her mouth, embarrassed at the somewhat offended look that the extremely elderly cashier shoots her.

Fighting the urge to apologize, Sakura makes her way down the farthest right of the aisles, automatically heading for the freezer-bound sort of ready-made food. The store seems silent, save for the faint humming generated by the freezers, and the quiet sound of some kind of frenetic, off-key classical music emanating from the tinny speakers fixed into the ceiling. Instinctively, Sakura glances around, judging the less superficial aspects of her surroundings. It is late evening, and the store is nearly deserted – the only person other than herself that she sees is a bland-looking young man dressed in ratty civilian clothes on the other side of the store, intently comparing two large specimens of bittermelon.

Sakura freezes momentarily, hand stilling on the black handle of the freezer door, as she stares into its glass reflection. Half of this moment of apparent indecision is just reserved for perusing the selection of microwaveable shrimp tempura – and the other half of it, for observing the other man who had just walked into the end of her aisle. He is wearing dark pants, and some kind of woolen gray jacket buttoned over a sweater and with an emerald green scarf wound around his neck and the lower half of his face. His muscular physique is hardly concealed by the layers of clothing, and he's tall – a little more so than even Itachi. His reflection wavers somewhat in the unclear glass, and, her tempura momentarily forgotten, Sakura watches him pick up a packet of jasmine tea, apparently reading the description on the back.

Somewhat coming back to herself, Sakura blinks, startled at this completely involuntary mental lapse. Flustered, she yanks the freezer door open and hastily pulls out two boxes of shrimp tempura, exiting the freezer food aisle hastily through the opposite end, so as to put as much distance between her and the man with the scarf as possible. Had it just been her imagination (to her displeasure, Itachi has rubbed off on her more than she has on him, and that includes his occasionally paranoid tendencies), or had the scarf man's eyes lingered on the back of her head for a few seconds longer than was…normal? Hell, she would have expected a _shorter _staring session if her hair had been left its usual shade of bright pink…

Sakura is so rattled that she stalks past the bittermelon-obsessed man, toward the cash register, without even sparing a moment to consider the fact that finding the better specimen of vegetable should never take somebody that long or require such an amount of unmoving, seemingly unblinking intensity.

-

_The Next Morning_

-

The tile is freezing against her bare feet, and Sakura shivers, pacing in tight circles in order to maintain some semblance of warmth. The bathroom is tiny enough to barely even contain this degree of limited movement, and she bites her lip to stifle a curse as her hip bumps sharply against the old-fashioned ceramic sink. Maybe she should have listened to Itachi and sold some of her valuable store of herbal astringents, muscle rubs, and various oral and topical remedies – which she had all brewed on her own, thank you very much – before coming here, because then, at least that money could have gone toward some adequate cold-weather clothing. Another day of twelve-hour stakeout in this outfit is not going to be pleasant, to say the least.

Sakura gives her blue-tinted – the hot water had run out two minutes into her shower – reflection a somewhat despairing look as she buckles her split skirt over her shorts, before checking the zippers on her somewhat battered knee-high boots. _That _part of her outfit hasn't changed much over the years; the only noticeable difference is that she had traded the red sleeveless zippered vest for a sleek, fitted black one, once the red one had become too short and tight. After a few months of intense suffering and constant self-restraint, Itachi had practically dragged her into the first available shinobi outfitting store and forced her to buy a new top – under the pretenses of taking advantage of a fifty percent off sale on all kunoichi attire, although both of them _really _knew that he had really just gotten tired of the constant distraction that her old vest offered him.

The memory makes her smile a little, and, absentmindedly rubbing her chilly palms over the skin of her upper arms for warmth, Sakura nudges the bathroom door open with her hip. Surprisingly enough, she is hit with a wall of welcome heat, and she blinks a few times, before directing a confused glance to the small, ancient, and moldering fireplace in the corner of the room. "What—"

"A miniature Katon," Itachi completes smugly, even as he presses a steaming mug of blueberry tea into her hands. "You were incorrect – it is quite possible; it only requires an even more precise amount of chakra control than needed to generate a normally proportioned technique."

Sakura glowers at the reference to their heated hour-long debate of last night. "Just because that's the _one _good ninjutsu that I haven't been able to pick up from you," she sighs exaggeratedly. "You know, _some _of us aren't lucky enough to be able to perfectly copy a technique just by looking at it."

Itachi smirks in response, even as the two of them sit side-by-side on the edge of the bed. He watches Sakura through the glass of the window, though, as she takes small sips of her tea and her face falls back into the pensive expression that he has been noticing more and more recently.

"You could just ask me what's wrong," Sakura comments, after a few moments, and the faintest trace of a smile touches her face. "You know, instead of the whole window-watching thing. In all honesty, _darling, _you can be more than a little bit creepy at times."

"So says the kunoichi who, for the first month of our acquaintance, fully believed that I was stalking her with potentially dubious intent," Itachi deadpans, unaffected by the accusation. "If your claim is true, Sakura, by now, you should know me well enough to be completely aware of my extraordinary degree of sexual deviancy."

Sakura chokes on her tea, and despite her newfound emotional and mental maturity, it takes an extraordinary effort to keep herself from laughing further and, therefore, running the risk of snorting tea through her nose.

Once she has managed to swallow her tea and put her cup down safely, even though she is still giggling at the very thought of a sexually deviant Itachi (who is now sitting, somber and completely poker-faced at her side), Sakura practically pounces on him, sliding into his lap and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. His nonplussed look – it is, of course, at least eleven hours too early for any displays of physical affection whatsoever – only furthers her amusement, as she tightens the hug, earning herself a growl of displeasure. "Oh, the lengths that you'll go to just get me to smile," Sakura purrs mischievously, nuzzling her nose against his neck like an overly-enthusiastic kitten. "I take it all back, Itachi – you're actually just so overwhelmingly, almost nauseatingly romantic that I can hardly stand it sometimes—"

There is about a minute of heavy and utterly uncomfortable silence, abruptly brought to an end by a shriek of dismay.

"…Damn it, Uchiha! You can't put out the fire just to _punish_ me, you kinky, twisted—"

"Sakura, I am taking this opportunity to inform you of two things. One, as you are severely underdressed and the cold is quite obviously affecting your mental state, you will take the indoor sector of our patrols today, and I will handle the outdoor aspects. The second is that, as a result of your little outburst, I may not speak to you for twelve hours after this point."

Sakura can't help but roll her eyes affectionately, her previous tension momentarily forgotten, as she stands up as well, rising to the tips of her toes in order to press a quick kiss to his cheek. Itachi stays still, resigned to the unavoidable, although after a few moments and seemingly casually, his hands come to rest gently on the small of her back, holding her close, and she smiles against his skin. "I love you too, Itachi."

-

_Medical Supplies Warehouse, Snow_

-

The battered stack of dusty boxes is about five and a half feet high, and for once, Sakura is grateful for her lack of physical height; the boxes hide her body adequately from all sides as she ducks behind them. The cardboard is rough against her skin, and she bites her lip to avoid sneezing. It is the first day of the weekend, so the warehouse is abandoned; the main lights are all off, and the area is lit only by the dim, distant orange glow of the backup emergency lights. Her heart is beating a little faster than usual, and Sakura takes a deep breath, before closing her eyes and waiting.

On the way here, she had concealed herself with a genjutsu, while sending a clone – a pink-haired, obviously undisguised version of her – along the main streets of Snow, toward the emptier parts of town that the warehouses were located. Sakura had made sure to send her clone through populous areas, where it would be sure to be very visible. It was a plan that Itachi had been more than a little skeptical of, but by the time her clone had been out of the residential area of the town, she had already attracted a very sneaky and very subtle follower. A nondescript, short-haired brunette male who did not display even the slightest signs of Earth-type chakra – but, instead, displayed the levels of chakra typically associated with objects such as coffee tables or lawn chairs; a lack of chakra that is, needless to say, absolutely never found in any human being. She'd been right…but the only way for him to _fix _his problem was to overcompensate for it entirely, which proved to be just as incriminating.

He hadn't been wearing any forehead protector, obviously, but Sakura had strengthened her concealment genjutsu enough to slink a few inches closer from where she had been tailing her clone and the suspected spy. And, conveniently enough, there it was – the telltale tiny, golden, and painfully familiar symbol of Konoha, embroidered onto the back of the neck of his dark green flak vest.

As if sensing her eyes on him, the spy had engaged a concealment genjutsu of his own, as he continued to stalk her apparently unaware clone. As Sakura had planned, to him, it would obviously look like she had decided to visit a medical warehouse to stock up on the numerous basic supplies that field medics perpetually on the verge of being involved in a dangerous situation would need, before moving on to the next location.

In the last few minutes before her clone had reached the door, the genjutsu-concealed Sakura had performed a quick transportation jutsu, which leaves her where she is now – waiting. Adrenaline is coursing through her veins at the unexpected success of her plan; she had relied heavily on the spy's overconfidence in his own tracking abilities, combined with his sorry underestimation of _her _(honestly, what self-respecting A-ranked kunoichi would have walked at least two miles, followed by a concealed presence, and _not _even come close to detecting it?), and both variables had fallen well into place.

Her clone is going to lead him here, to this stack of boxes in the very back of the warehouse; apparently inadvertently cornering herself while lost in pursuit of glorious medical things, to the spy's benefit, but in reality, just finishing the last stages of the trap. Technically, if the spy had been a little wiser, he would have realized that he had no need to follow an enemy kunoichi into an unsecured perimeter – he could have just added her location to his list and immediately sent it back to Danzou. However, Sakura can logically assume that this apparent lack of common sense had been born out of some kind of ultimatum Danzou had made – _send me back one of the criminals with the list of locations and you will be promoted immediately, _or something along those lines, and her lips twist with distaste, as they always do whenever even entertaining the barest thought of Konoha's so-called Hokage.

Distantly, there is the solid slam of the heavy, rusted iron door, and Sakura forces her resolved focus to return with the next breath. The door's opening had let in a gust of icy wind that seems to pervade every part of the air in the musty warehouse, and the bare skin on her arms and legs actually tingles with discomfort. In her time with the Akatsuki, she and Itachi had their share of tense minutes and sometimes hours of nothing but agonizing waiting, but it never gets any less nerve-wrenchingly difficult.

Her clone takes her time, in order to make it look as natural as possible, and thankfully, the spy is patient. At least he doesn't underestimate her enough to think that he can realistically take her down when her back isn't against a wall.

The clone makes her way past the stack of boxes where Sakura is concealed, and for a moment, Sakura experiences the truly strange sensation of locking eyes with her almost-identical mirror image. The kunoichi shrinks back against the boxes further, jerking her head a little to the right, and motioning her clone to step closer to the wall, effectively putting her forehead, hands, chest, and entire front half of her body within a few inches of the metal shelving that holds bottles upon bottles of common herbal and chemical ingredients for just about any medical solution imaginable.

The Sakura-clone does so, innocently standing on her tiptoes and reaching up for a bottle of aloe vera essence, and instinctively, Sakura presses herself further back into the shadowed safety guaranteed by her stack of boxes, loading her right hand with the precise amount of killing chakra that she will need to disable the spy. This proves to be an unnecessary move, though, as the spy – now unconcealed; he releases the genjutsu with a kind of seamless perfection that blurs her vision – charges forward, incredibly fast, and tackles her clone against the metal shelving. The impact of two bodies colliding with each other and the metal shelving would have been enough of a painful sound, but it is magnified a hundred times over by the sound that the glass bottles make as they topple off the shelves, shattering against the cold concrete floor.

In the next second, as the spy's arms lock around her clone's waist in a merciless grip, forcing the front of her body against the shelves, Sakura pounces forward. Instead of the clumsy tackle he had used on her clone, she drives a chakra-laden punch into his left kidney, and the sound of his yell of mingled pain and dismay coincides perfectly with the sharp _crack _of the dissolution of her clone. Before the spy can even attempt retaliation, Sakura kicks the back of his right knee out under him, sending him collapsing down to her level, before she locks her hands around his throat as fast as she can, wrenching him around viciously to face her, and dragging him away from the wall. "Where's the list?" she hisses, into his venomous hazel eyes. "Give it to me and I _may _not kill you."

Before Sakura can even register the minute twitch in his throat, he has already spat into her eye, and it takes all of the strength she has gained in her past six years as a kunoichi to keep herself from letting go of him out of sheer revulsion. "Go to hell, bitch!" the spy yells, his contorted features blurry.

Blinking as hard as she can, Sakura actually snarls aloud, hastily extricating her largest and most menacingly serrated shuriken from the sleek pouch tied around her upper thigh, even as she tightens her grip around his throat, just in case. "I swear that I will slash you until you talk," she nearly whispers, even now, unsure of whether she is telling the truth or not.

The spy laughs scornfully, the sound coming out rattled and painful. "Go ahead, kunoichi," he mocks, now not even attempting to fight back. "I sent the list to Danzou-sama last night – he got tired of waiting for me to track you down. He figured he could torture the rest until they gave yours and the Copy-Nin's whereabouts up, anyway."

Sakura literally sees red in that instant, and she sways on her feet for one precarious moment, because – _oh god, oh god, I was too late and I failed and they're all going to pay for it_ –

In one swift movement, Sakura pulls the kunai out of the holster at the spy's belt, and in the next second, it is already buried hilt-deep in his heart.

And it isn't the only one.

Every nerve in Sakura's body goes utterly numb, as she releases the spy's lifeless, bleeding body at the same moment as the man standing just a foot across from her. She stares at him, and he at her, for a few long moments, before the image even begins to register. It's the same man from the grocery store last night – the really tall one, with the dark pants and long gray coat and dark gray eyes, with the emerald scarf fallen, now, hanging limply around his neck and exposing the lower half of his face—

Which she had seen, once. When she had been fourteen and they had been on a mission, and he had been slashed across the left cheek, from the corner of his eye to almost his jawbone, by a shuriken that he had failed to dodge properly. Sakura had ripped the mask off without thinking twice about it and healed the profusely bleeding cut with one effortless sweep of her hand, and afterward, he had thanked her and quite cleverly extricated a promise that she that if the subject ever came up in conversation with Naruto or anybody else, she was actually supposed to swear that there was a _damn _good reason Kakashi wore a mask, because underneath it, he was actually horrendously ugly; cursed with an unattractive mole on his chin, terrible acne scars, and buck teeth.

Sakura had agreed. And, if her memory serves her right, she had gone home that night and spent half of the night squeezing her favorite pillow delightedly and marveling over how insanely, inexplicably, freaking _hot _her sensei was.

Now, she's not. Well, not really. She is taking him in with wide eyes, because maybe she had done too good of a job of forcing herself not to be too optimistic, regarding his fate, and he is staring at her like he has never seen her before.

"Sakura—"

Sakura actually trips over the spy's body as she unceremoniously flings herself into Kakashi's arms, burying her face into the crook of his neck and breathing him in, and her name dies in his throat, as he actually hugs her back so tightly that her feet are swept a good few inches off the floor. His heartbeat is strong and reassuring against her chest, his hands warm as they run over her back, as if silently reassuring himself that she is a living, solid, presence, and kami, the sudden, unexpected arrival of such a familiar presence, of somebody who she had, deep down, believed that was long gone and even resigned herself to his loss on some level, is so overwhelming that it actually makes Sakura's head spin and her throat tighten.

They are both trying to talk at the same time, but Sakura beats Kakashi by half a second. "You're alive," she breathes, pulling back just enough to meet his charcoal-gray eyes – _eyes; _she realizes; he must have put a colored contact lens over the conspicuous crimson Sharingan right eye – almost accusingly. "How – why—"

Her thoughts and rationalizations are coming at speeds far too fast to actually articulate, and Sakura has to stop to catch her breath, suddenly all too aware of just how fast and irregularly her heart is pounding in her chest.

Maybe it is just her imagination, but Kakashi's hands are strangely reluctant, as he finally fully withdraws from the embrace. She can count the number of times they have hugged, save for this one, with half the fingers on one hand. (Literally.) He's not the touchy-feely type, much like Itachi, but it is only too obvious that he had been just as affected by her presence as she had been by his.

Kakashi sighs deeply, drawing one long-fingered hand through his grown-out, messy, _dyed _black hair – that unusual shade of silver would have been nearly as conspicuous as the Sharingan, but there are still touches of the color at his roots. "Don't look at me like that, Sakura," he says wearily, and, startled, Sakura stops cataloguing the exact number of ways he looks more worn and different than the man she had known in Konoha. "I wanted nothing more than to tell you and Naruto, somehow, that I was all right – but setting foot in the village again would have been a death sentence."

"What _happened_?" Sakura asks heatedly, some of the old impatience coming back to her tone as she takes her ex-sensei by the arm, pulling him away from the spy's crumpled body; toward a smaller row of boxes that they can sit on.

"The Root squad broke into my flat the night two days after…what happened to Tsunade-sama," Kakashi replies, a little bitterly. "As I'm sure you remember. It wasn't as if I didn't expect it – I was practically sitting up, waiting for them."

Sakura's bottom lip is starting to hurt from how hard she is biting it, and she nods tersely. "And?"

"It was only a five-man team," Kakashi replies, sounding utterly serious. "It was a moderate challenge, but I'm ashamed to say that the one I took down first regained consciousness by the time I was done with the other four – he immediately reported back to Hokage Tower, and I knew it would be a matter of minutes before Danzou sent reinforcements. So I—"

"You just left," Sakura completes, unsure of why the words trigger such a sense of inexplicable abandonment. "You probably left the Fire Country to get away from the hunter squads and started traveling the world, like all the rest of us did."

He watches her sadly, and for a moment, she gets a glimpse of the old Kakashi, as he lifts one hand and ruffles her still-black hair. "I'm sorry, Sakura," he murmurs, his voice quiet in the complete stillness of the warehouse. "I – I wish I could have planned it out better; done what Gai did when he helped Lee and Tenten escape on the same night he did, as well. I hated myself for leaving you and Naruto behind—"

This kind of honesty makes Sakura blink once, but she shakes her head, releasing the genjutsu as she does so, so that her locks are once again their customary bright pink shade. "Don't apologize," she interrupts firmly. "You did what you had to do. So did I. And so did everybody else."

"You did what you had to do," Kakashi echoes, his voice still quiet, and strangely calm.

A slightly awkward silence settles over them, and Sakura looks down at her gloved hands, which are pressed between her knees. "You've heard from Naruto, then?" she asks, trying her best to keep her tone effortlessly steady. It feels like a punch to the stomach – she has just gotten him back; she can't handle the thought of his disapproval and condemnation; of his rejecting her just like everybody else…

Strangely, Kakashi laughs a little, but it is a halfhearted, humorless sound. "We ran into each other around one and a half weeks ago, almost immediately after he sent you the letter informing you about the spy. In all honesty, though, I'm not entirely sure what he said; he seemed to lose all kinds of verbal coherence when discussing anything even related to you – he managed something about your being alive and in good health, and…" the older shinobi stops abruptly, rubbing the back of his neck in palpable discomfort. "He mumbled some things…I got a few names, a few disgusted looks, he almost punched a rock at some point, and he said something about the Akatsuki not being a threat to our interests any longer, because of what you've done. …Look, Sakura, is it true?"

There is no discernable emotion in his voice, but Sakura has to keep herself from wincing, as if the words had been a physical blow. What can she _possibly _say about this? _Yes, Kakashi-sensei, I'm screwing around with the man who nearly tortured you into complete insanity about five years ago._

Actually, even that isn't quite true. It would be more like, '_Yes, Kakashi-sensei, I'm hopelessly and completely in love with the man who nearly tortured you into complete insanity about five years ago._'

"_You know that he's not the monster we once thought he was,_" she wants to reply, or that, "_We first met when he saved my life—_"

Sakura stands up abruptly, offering Kakashi a hand. "You know what?" she asks, hating how strained and tight her voice sounds. "Why don't you see for yourself?"

-

_Later That Evening_

-

This easily has to be one of the worst ideas she has ever had in her entire life.

Sakura had hoped that the two of them would get along at least civilly; now that Kakashi knows the truth about Itachi, the circumstances of the Uchiha massacre, and the depth of the sacrifices he made – and, similarly, Itachi has _always _knownhow deep her respect for Kakashi ran, and how much she had missed him during the past years. Not only that, but both of them were equally powerful shinobi who had known each other years ago, before Itachi had been forced to leave Konoha; they had even worked on the same ANBU squad. Presumably, they had worked together and respected one another fine, back then.

Now, however, this is most definitely not the case.

Sakura has to thank all the kami that at least things haven't erupted into open warfare yet. No weapons have been thrown or direct threats exchanged, and both Itachi and Kakashi have managed to keep their eyes their customary shade of charcoal-gray instead of succumbing to the temptation to intimidate each other with their shared bloodline limit.

The small table at the very back of the bar is dead silent at the moment, and the pink-haired kunoichi is absolutely sure that the two men think that they are being _very _subtle, but it hasn't escaped her notice that whenever she inclines her head to take a somewhat tremulous bite of her vegetable fried rice, they both glare daggers at one another. Or that Kakashi keeps his eyes trained menacingly on Itachi as he saws through his steak with more vehemence than is really necessary. Or that Itachi had finished his tempura with greater speed than usual, and now seems to be entertaining himself by twirling his unused knife through his long fingers as he stares fixedly at a spot slightly over Kakashi's head.

Sakura is fairly sure that, to any outside observer, it would have been funny. If she ever told Ino about this, there is a strong probability that the blonde girl would crack a rib from laughing so hard. If it had been a scene in some freaking romantic comedy she had watched as a twelve-year-old, hell, _she _would probably have found absolutely hilarious, as well.

Except it's not. Not in the _least_, not _remotely _even a little bit amusing. The awkwardness and palpable tension that has settled over the table is so thick that it could be sliced with a knife, making the loud laughter and chatter from every other area of the small bar intensely nerve-wracking, and Sakura's stomach has twisted itself up in so many knots that eating has become nearly impossible. Her palms are clammy, and her fingers tremble a little as she draws her glass of chilled water closer, instead. For once in her life, she actually doesn't dare to even attempt starting a conversation, because it seems that even the most innocent topic could degenerate into something that is far less than pleasant. The silence is unbearable, but she's kind of afraid of what would happen if either Itachi or Kakashi tries to say something, as well, because nothing that they would have to say to one another would be good—

"Hatake," Itachi states, at last, and even though his voice is as quiet and cool as ever, it makes Kakashi's fingers tighten around his knife and Sakura's muscles stiffen, as well – she knows Itachi well enough to understand that this particular icy undercurrent in his tone does not mean well for anybody involved. "What brings you to Snow?"

Even though this is the question that Sakura has been itching to ask, the sense of foreboding she feels does nothing to lessen as Kakashi's gaze lands on her for a fraction of a second, before fixing, squarely and almost aggressively, on Itachi. "I was attempting to find Sakura, of course," he replies, and the words come out sounding like a harsh mockery of his usual laid-back tone.

Sakura blinks, but before she can react further, Itachi actually takes her hand over the table, seemingly casually intertwining their fingers together, and her skin flushes a little with discomfort. Honestly, how messed up is it that the one time they engage in a public display of affection is for the sole purpose of riling up her ex-sensei? "Interesting," Itachi deadpans.

Kakashi seems to be having difficulty tearing his eyes away from their interlaced hands, and part of Sakura wants to kick Itachi underneath the table and apologize to Kakashi, but another part of her is too busy marveling over the fact that, if she didn't know better, she could assume that Itachi might actually feel threatened.

Kakashi clears his throat, instead redirecting his gaze to his former student. "Naruto wanted me to give you backup, in essence," he explains, a little bit stiffly. "It wasn't as if he believed that you were incapable," he adds hastily, in response to the glare that Sakura is giving him. "It was just such a crucial mission that he thought that it was better safe than sorry."

Instead of these words being the reassurance that they were meant to be, Sakura's shoulders slump anew, the memory of her earlier failure coming back and slapping her on the face. Itachi's hand squeezes hers, ever so slightly, and she looks back up at the two of them, forcing herself to nod in calm acknowledgment. "Yeah, he was probably right."

"I was trying to tail the spy, as well as find you," Kakashi continues hastily, trying to cover the lapse.

Sakura interrupts him with a slight smile. "So, it was you, in the grocery store?"

Kakashi laughs a little sheepishly – a real laugh this time, one that makes Itachi's eyes narrow almost imperceptibly. "Sorry if I freaked you out," he disclaims, one eye crinkling into that smiley-crescent-moon shape that Sakura, as a genin, used to adore. "Didn't recognize you, of course, not with that hair – but the familiarity of something about you just caught my attention; the boots, maybe, or the way you walked."

It takes all of Sakura's considerable strength to keep herself from flinching at how hard Itachi's fingers tighten around hers, while Kakashi seems to be oblivious to the fact that, if looks could kill, he would be long dead by now, thanks to the raven-haired man sitting across from him. Desperately seeking to change the subject, the pink-haired kunoichi coughs, nudging her lover's leg hard under the cover provided by the table. "So," she replies, in as normal a tone as she can possibly manage. "If the spy sent the list of our locations back to Danzou, then…what are we going to do next? Won't there be Root squads that have already been sent on the attack?"

Kakashi shrugs with one shoulder. "Doesn't really matter, does it?" he asks rhetorically. "We're faster than they are, and everybody is getting ready to leave their locations anyway, Sakura – within the next week or so, we're, in essence, doing a mass migration to the area near the border between Sand and the Leaf. Safe within Sand's boundaries, yes, but within a stone's throw of Konoha."

"Gaara's always been sympathetic to our cause," Sakura completes numbly, remembering the written promise he had sent to Naruto immediately after Tsunade's assassination – stating that, when the time came, Sand would back Naruto's coup up in any and every way possible. "But, if we're all relocating there, doesn't that mean…"

"It has been approximately three years, Sakura," Itachi interjects quietly; the small, decorated light fixture mounted on the wall reflects into his eyes, turning them strangely darker. "Of course he would be more than ready."

Kakashi looks surprised at this testimony – to say the least – but at last, he remembers to nod tersely. "Naruto asked me to tell you," he murmurs, "that it's starting. That, if you want to be a part of it, to come back with me."

The words – the sheer unexpectedness of them – startle her momentarily, but, even though she has been feeling more bitterness than anything towards Naruto, lately, there was never really any question about whether or not she would do this. And, damn it, he should have _known _that.

Because Itachi knew it too. Of course.

_(Right?_)

"Yes," Sakura replies quietly, throwing half of a glance over her shoulder at Itachi, who manages to look simultaneously expressionless and so much more tense than usual. "I will."

-

Itachi is not quite sure of what to think for the rest of that night. He does not miss the worried glances that Sakura sends his way as the three of them (_two's company, three's a crowd_, Shisui would always tease little Sasuke when she gently guided him toward younger children to play with, so that the two of them could be alone) check into a far more suitable inn on the other side of the village. It is much more spacious and comfortable, actually adequately heated, with one blazing fireplace at each high-ceilinged wall of the lobby. The walls are dark wood, made fireproof with the aid of chakra, and the warm, comforting light creates a flush in his lover's cheeks and lights her hair an even warmer shade of pink.

She and Kakashi have been discussing the imminent coup in low voices for the past half hour, even as Kakashi purchases two rooms, as if on autopilot. Itachi remains silent; absorbing the information and filing it away for future reference. Sakura seems worried by all of it already, and he has not seen her look so tense and nervous in a long time. She is already thinking and strategizing fast, as only a shinobi of her caliber can, her emerald-green eyes somewhere far away, and Itachi is the one to catch her when she walks head-on into an abandoned towel cart in the middle of the hallway. She smiles at him a little and murmurs an absentminded thanks, before biting her lip hard and continuing to wonder out loud about whether the clan members confined to Konoha will break out and join the rest of the reinforcements in Sand, or mount a surprise attack from within at the same time as the external forces strike.

"We'll talk about it tomorrow morning," Kakashi finally concludes, as he leans against the small stretch of wall that separates their two rooms, and Itachi is actually thankful for the other man's words, because Sakura already looks like she is in danger of driving herself to distraction.

There are so many more things and tactics that she wants to discuss; to write down so that she can remember, but Sakura nods, forced to acknowledge the distant tiredness in her bones. "Right," she says distractedly, and without thinking about it, she takes Itachi's hand in hers, loving how familiar and uncomplicated it feels. He's just as good of a strategist as she is; they can talk about it for a little while before going to bed…"Good night, Kakashi-sensei—"

But then Kakashi raises an eyebrow, and before Sakura can even blink, one of his hands is resting on the _very_ nonplussed-looking Itachi's shoulder. "No, Sakura-chan," her ex-sensei deadpans. "I sincerely apologize," – he sounds anything but sincere _or _apologetic – "but I can't allow you to steal my roommate."

_Oh, hell no._

Now feeling wide awake and like a complete traitor because her mind is suddenly very _not _focused on helping Naruto with the coup, Sakura's gaze swivels back and forth between Itachi and Kakashi, finally landing on the latter. "What?" she asks dangerously.

Before Kakashi can respond, Itachi steps away from him, returning to Sakura's side. "I presume that you are aware of the nature of my relationship with _Sakura-chan_, yes, Hatake?" he asks silkily.

Before Sakura can punch one or both of them through the opposite wall and order them to stop this stupid, _stupid…_masculine grandstanding or whatever the hell it is, Kakashi arches an eyebrow, looking supremely unconcerned. "Why, yes I am, _Uchiha_," he replies, his voice a little bit frostier than the subzero temperatures outside.

"Good."

Before the smug reply is even finished, Itachi is kissing her, and Sakura just about has a heart attack out of sheer shock. It's _another _public display of affection. It's not even a particularly polite and decorous one, either – not a proper little goodnight kiss by any means. It's a moderately touchy-feely _I'm-going-to-blow-your-mind-and-make-your-knees-fall-out-from-under-you-and-almost-make-you-forget-that-your-ex-sensei-is-right-in-front-of-us _kind of kiss; one that is probably specially designed to make Kakashi contemplate in horror the things that they would be doing if he had _not _decided to separate them for the night—

When the entire experience is finally over – it must have only lasted seven seconds, at most, although it feels much longer – Kakashi has a greenish tinge to his skin and looks like he wants nothing more than to scrub his retinas out, Itachi looks unbearably self-satisfied, and Sakura wonders if she looks like she wants to kick both of their asses.

Because she does. Really. A lot.

"Sleep well, Sakura," Itachi says calmly, before practically sauntering into the next room and closing the door behind him.

There is a long, drawn-out moment of awkward silence between Kakashi and Sakura, and Sakura just crosses her arms over her chest, staring at him expectantly.

Predictably enough, Kakashi caves, managing an uncomfortable little laugh and scratching his head sheepishly. "Well, that little strategy might have backfired horribly on me, don't you think?"

Even though Sakura maintains that the situation is still not funny in the least, a traitorous smile tugs at the corner of her lips. "Just a little bit," she replies sardonically, before turning away and retreating into her room.

-

It is another two minutes before Kakashi joins Itachi, looking fairly disgruntled. "I got the message, Uchiha," he says, not a little irritably, as he barely restrains himself from slamming the door shut. "There was really no need whatsoever to grope my student in front of me."

_Why, Hatake? Did it make you jealous? _

The uncharacteristic vindictiveness of the thought – and the fact that, for a moment, he has to bite his tongue to keep from saying it out loud – makes Itachi feel more than slightly unsettled, and he keeps silent, standing at the window and staring out into the sky. He gives no indication that he had heard Kakashi's words, and after a few moments, the other man sighs and strides toward the bathroom, unwinding the scarf from around his neck and tossing it on the nearby desk.

Judging things to now be a little more bearable, Itachi turns around, fingers going to the top fastening on his Akatsuki cloak, and there is no indication of any emotion whatsoever on his face when he suddenly finds himself nose-to-nose with Kakashi, who seems to have changed his mind en route. The older shinobi has a few inches on him, and one hand poised menacingly on the handle of the kunai sticking out of his pocket, but Itachi simply stares back, utterly unruffled. Despite the provocation, temptation, and relative ease of doing so, he has no intention of physically or otherwise engaging with the Hatake. His eyes are literally burning with the strain of keeping the Sharingan repressed, but Sakura would not stand for any sort of confrontation whatsoever – and he has no intention of disappointing her.

For a split second, Itachi considers the possibility that Kakashi might be engaging in similar thoughts, because even though his glowering does not cease, he takes one step back. "Look," he states abruptly. "I know you and Sakura are…involved…and have been, for over a year. Considering both of your personalities, I know that things between you are probably relatively serious. Hell, you might even have _feelings _for her, Uchiha."

Itachi ignores the deliberate jab as he stares back at the other shinobi coldly. "Your point?" he inquires, voice dripping disdain.

"This entire business, with Naruto and Konoha and the coup," Kakashi replies bluntly. "I know that she wants to be involved in it. That she wants to end the entire misplaced chapter of her life spent as a missing-nin as fast as possible and go back home, where she belongs."

The words have no effect on him, Itachi tells himself. He feels nothing.

Kakashi looks him up and down, his gaze strangely penetrating, as he lowers his voice a little. "I can assume that _you_, for your own selfish reasons, don't want her to."

He is a calm, level-headed, _rational _being, not hotheaded and reckless like Sasuke, and this reminder is the only thing that makes the threat die in Itachi's throat and keeps his hand from reaching for Kakashi's throat.

"And if you interfere in any way whatsoever with what Sakura wants," Kakashi says calmly, turning away and beginning to walk toward the bathroom again. "Verbally, physically, mentally, emotionally…there will be hell to pay. Several times over."

Itachi turns around abruptly, facing the window and the dark night sky, the stars and the snow and the lights of the village and the city neighboring it, and he stares at it a million times deeper than he would normally, trying with each breath to calm himself down and eradicate that troublesome little impulse to teach Kakashi Hatake a long and painful lesson about why to never turn his back on him. Because he can. And he _has_, before – reduced the famous Copy-Nin to a shell of his former self; made him scream until his voice gave out, made him lie, semi-comatose, on a hospital bed for weeks—

From inside the bathroom, there is the distant rush of water from the high-powered shower, and Itachi feels all the breath in his body leave him in a long, drawn-out sigh. He sits on the edge of the bed closest to him; the covers are stiff, clean, and tightly drawn, smelling strongly of the herbal scents of fresh lavender and rosemary. Sakura would love it. She would curl up in one of his oversized shirts, wrap herself in several layers (too many layers, Itachi always maintained, not sharing his lover's deep intolerance of the cold) of blankets, and hug a pillow close to her chest, because by now, she is probably unused to sleeping alone. And then she would fall asleep fast, exhausted by reunions and internal conflict and too much thinking, and she would dream of…whatever she dreamed of at night.

Something deep inside him gives a painful twinge at the very thought of love and Sakura, and hell, every night, every _damn _night since she had come back from that first confrontation with Naruto and practically ordered him to run away with her, Itachi has been trying not to count how many days that they have left together. Tonight had been a cruel reawakening, a sharp reminder of his own foolishness.

Kakashi's words about Sakura echo mercilessly in his head, and…she loves him; Itachi does not question that. She tells him so at least once every day. It is not a matter of love; it is a matter of whom or what she loves _more_.

He has never asked her if she wants to go back to Konoha – it is a question, he thinks, that both of them know the answer to. The subject is completely taboo with them; they have never discussed anything to do with Konoha and life after the coup. Sometimes, when the two of them had been performing assignments for the Akatsuki, however – when they made their reports to the Leader together, or the rare occasions when Sakura slipped on the cloak that Konan had ordered for her in order to carry out an especially important mission, Itachi had allowed himself to fantasize about an infinitely preferable future for the both of them. He does not think he will ever leave the Akatsuki; the organization that Pein and Konan had made solely their own speaks to him in ways that the old Akatsuki had not, and their goal of achieving peace is something that he can unquestionably respect and relate to. The Akatsuki, aside from Sakura and Sasuke, is where he has made bonds, as well; Kisame is the closest thing he has to a friend, he and Pein share a deep mutual respect for one another, and even though Itachi would rather be blinded with a hot poker than admit it out loud, there are some times where he is certain that if he had an older sister, she would be suspiciously similar to Konan.

Sakura could be happy with the Akatsuki. She _has _been, for the past one and a half years, and Itachi is almost completely certain that if the two of them could sit down and have a rational conversation about it, she would agree with him.

"_If you interfere in any way with what Sakura wants – verbally, physically, emotionally, mentally_—"

Itachi reaches to his shoulder, taking hold of his long ponytail and almost compulsively beginning to smooth it out. At the same time, he knows, with far too much clarity, that this will be difficult enough for her without his adding to it. There is nothing that _he _could think of, considering situations for their future, that she can't. There is nothing he can give her or offer her to guarantee her staying (or motivate her to stay?) that wouldn't violate the ridiculous terms of the ridiculous Hatake's equally foolish decree.

Except—

Itachi's fingers slip; tangle in the ends of his hair and get caught there. For a moment, he debates the possibility that he has taken leave of his senses.

_No_, he decides, like Sasuke would – recklessly, hotheadedly, selfishly, impetuously.

Perhaps it bears thinking about.

-

_The Next Morning_

-

Sakura sleeps terribly.

She hates admitting it, but she just isn't used to sleeping alone. As strange as it sounds to even her, she hasn't slept _without _Itachi for three years. Her room is physically comforting, yes – warm, and the blankets smell like rosemary and lavender, and she loves that. She had curled up in one of Itachi's oversized shirts and wrapped herself in layers and layers of blankets, and she _should _have fallen asleep fast, exhausted by reunions and emotional conflict and too much thinking, but…

Actually, it was the emotional conflict that had kept her up for most of the night.

Too tired to really care about what she sees in the mirror, Sakura stares blankly at her fully-dressed reflection, before finishing tugging the zipper on her black fur-lined jacket all the way to her chin. She is too pale, which makes the dark circles under her eyes even more prominent. She even lacks the resolve to deal with her beloved hair, today – she finger-combs the necessary parts erratically and pulls it into a messy ponytail before proceeding to the kitchen for breakfast.

To her somewhat-dismay and somewhat-relief, there is no Itachi in sight – looking moody, like he always does in the mornings, and nursing a cup of tea as large as his face, but who still submits willingly to her good-morning kiss and always returns it with just as much quiet passion, tasting of whatever flavor of tea he had just been drinking – but there is Kakashi, sitting by the cappuccino machine and looking just as moody, while sipping from a large plastic cup that smells of chocolate and strawberries.

"Good morning," Sakura greets tiredly, slipping into the seat across from him, after grabbing a large orange and equally oversized apple from the fruit basket; the waffle maker seems to be broken, so she settles for the next best thing.

"Hm," Kakashi mumbles back, mouth full of steaming hot cappuccino.

"You had better tell me you didn't kill Itachi," Sakura warns, her tone made no less menacing by the loud crunch of apple generated by her somewhat vicious bite into it.

"I didn't," Kakashi replies, sounding suspiciously cheery. "Although I admit to some surprise that you didn't call him your _darling Ita-kun_ just now."

Sakura sets her apple back down on the table with a firm thud. "One," she begins, sounding deceptively patient. "If he didn't kill me over something like that, I would drown in my own vomit. Two, if you want to say something, sensei, just say it."

"Fine," Kakashi replies, dropping the pretense, as he leans toward her. "What the hell are you playing at, Sakura? Getting so attached to such a rogue element?"

"He isn't a rogue element," Sakura retorts heatedly. "We met when he saved my life. He's never hurt me, or purposely, intentionally set out to hurt anybody else—"

—and then she shuts her mouth, because she knows that she's already lying.

"He essentially tried to kill Naruto, Sakura," Kakashi replies, his tone one of forced calm.

"And he realized he made a huge mistake, and _essentially_ killed one of the most evil and powerful shinobi in Fire Country history, _to save Naruto's life_, at great personal risk to himself. He almost died doing so, Kakashi!"

The older shinobi snorts, taking her discarded orange and tossing it from one hand to another. "How very selfless," he comments sarcastically, letting his eyes linger on her pointedly. "He probably didn't have any ulterior motives or reasoning at all, right?"

Sakura blushes angrily, before leaning across and snatching her orange back. "That is _entirely _besides the point."

"Yes, but Sakura, have you ever really taken the time to think this entire business through—"

"_What_?" Sakura snaps in return; her nerves had been worn enough from the lack of sleep and her own continuous agonizing about certain events and choices, and this is only making things worse. "First Naruto, now you – I'm not a goddamn _child_, Kakashi! I'm not the stupid little twelve-year-old genin that you first met, and even though you and he don't seem to think so at all – in case you missed the freaking memo – I am old, intelligent, and mature enough to make my own choices, and I don't appreciate your condemning me for something that's really none of your business!"

Her voice has risen in volume with each successive word, leaving Kakashi more than a little glad that they are alone in the kitchen, and by now, both of them have risen from the table, glaring one another down.

Kakashi takes a deep breath, forcing himself to look away from her, and out of the floor-to-ceiling glass window. It is snowing, as usual, and for a moment – even though he despises snow – he envies its atmosphere of unquestionable peace and calm. "How much of that was meant for Naruto?" he asks levelly.

Sakura places her hands on her hips, her posture still completely combative. "All of it, and I'm looking forward to telling him that in person, as well. And it was meant for you too, Kakashi—"

"You _know _that it's only because both of us care about you, Sakura—"

"Yes, but—"

Kakashi interrupts her again, shaking his head impatiently. "Then, what do you think that the future holds for you, Sakura? What does it hold for you and _Itachi_?"

She wavers visibly, reaching out one hand and grabbing the back of her chair. "Well," she replies, a little bit unsteadily. "Itachi was exiled from Konoha under false pretenses, essentially, so I'm sure that that, combined with the fact that Naruto owes Itachi his life, is enough grounds for Naruto, as Hokage, to offer Itachi an official pardon."

Kakashi laughs, a bitter-sounding bark. "That's lovely, Sakura. You don't know the Uchiha as well as you think you do, then – do you think he would really ever want to set another foot in the village that ordered him to kill every member of his family? Would _you_?"

Sakura pointedly ignores the last question, refusing to allow herself to even think about it. "I think that he would see that things have changed since then; that half the people responsible for ordering the massacre are dead, now, and half of them will be very soon—"

"Do you think that he would be magically reinstated as an ANBU Captain?" Kakashi talks over her, slamming his cup down on the table. "That he could ever find even a single shinobi, save for yourself, that would be willing to work alongside him? That the rest of Konoha would suddenly come to forgive and forget the most bloody, gruesome act of violence that has ever been perpetrated on its soil, just because it had been a slight _misunderstanding_? That he could ever walk down any street, anywhere, without being followed by the most malicious of whispers? And, Sakura, do you think that what Naruto and I are putting you through right now is bad? Imagine that, multiplied one thousand times over, because that's what _you'll _be facing every damn day. Hell, let's say that you and the Uchiha even have children, someday – they'll be the most socially ostracized, maligned things since Naruto—"

"Shut up," Sakura whispers, hating the way her throat is tightening, and she turns away from him abruptly, but the hot tears are already spilling over, burning their way down their cheeks.

She takes a few deep breaths, trying – and failing – to calm herself, but then Kakashi's arm is warm around her shoulder, and despite her instinctive reaction of sending a chakra-loaded elbow to his side, he is embracing her, pulling her close to his chest and rubbing her back soothingly.

"Don't," Sakura chokes out, her voice muffled by his heavy flak jacket, as she tries her best to pull away. "I'm sorry, but in all honesty, I think I hate you right now, Kakashi…"

"I know," he replies softly, still holding her close. "I know you hate to hear it, Sakura, but it's the truth. And I admit that I owe the Uchiha for your life…and even for keeping you safe and happy for these past years. But it's a part of your life that's going to end, soon – you're a smart girl; you've probably always known, on some level, that it just wasn't meant to be. You belong in Konoha, and you deserve a lot better than the future that I just outlined for you."

This time, Kakashi lets her pull away, and even though she can sense the sincerity in his words, Sakura still can't bring herself to look at him, as she wipes the last vestiges of tears away from her eyes. "Yeah," she says bitterly. "Of course I do."

-

The next week, as Kakashi, Sakura, and Itachi make their way from Snow to Sand, is a million different kinds of awkward. She loves having Kakashi back in her life, despite their heated argument early on – but he seems to have gotten the message that this is something that she needs to work out on her own, thankfully – and she just loves Itachi. Of course.

The two of them – Itachi and Kakashi – are still barely on speaking terms, and to make things even more confusing, Itachi has been a little more emotionally distant than usual. Not toward _her_ specifically, but just…in general. It reminds her more of what he used to be like before they actually 'got together', and Sakura isn't sure whether this is just because of Kakashi's sudden reappearance into their lives, or the issue of the impending coup and everything related to it. They haven't really had the time alone together to talk about anything important, and it is wearing on her nerves a little bit more every day. She cannot tell what it is that is on his mind, and, honestly, it scares her.

Sometimes, Sakura wonders if, deep down, she is afraid that Itachi is going to end it first. Even though she cannot think of a realistic, plausible situation that will allow them to be together after the coup and while living in Konoha, contemplating a life without him is more than a little frightening. Itachi had been her first relationship; her first real, long-term, mature love. She supposes that ending any long relationship of that nature would be hard, and that's without the less-than-conventional circumstances that had started theirs.

It is driving Sakura to distraction, knowing that everything – _everything _– is her decision to make. If she goes back to Konoha, she loses Itachi. If she stays with Itachi, she loses Konoha, and the people she loves and has missed for so long.

But doesn't she _belong _in Konoha? Everybody says so, and _she's _always thought that, because…because, until the past one and a half years, Konoha and going home was all that she could ever think about.

Maybe this sudden indecision is because she's been away for such a long time; because she's lacked the time to truly think about her former home and what it would be like to go back. Sakura still misses the people, yes – Ino, Shikamaru, and Chouji, who had crafted a code and a concealment jutsu specially designed for sending missives out of the village, and who she's been writing to every week for the past year. She has all of Ino's letters folded up and preserved in a special compartment of her bag, and the correspondence takes the edge of missing her best friend, but the separation still hurts.

The ache and craving for the familiar, though, has been slowly and steadily dissipating. She can eat ramen without having an instinctive, knee-jerk reaction of heart-wrenching pain of missing Ichiraku and Naruto. The missions with the Akatsuki have become more and more fulfilling, but…

Sakura misses stability, more than almost anything else. It would be so nice to have a real home again, and after such a long time spent roaming the world, she is more than ready to settle down somewhere. The lifestyle of a missing-nin is something she has become accustomed to, but how practical is it, in the long term? She respects Pein and Konan greatly and counts the latter as one of her close friends, but she doesn't want that kind of life for herself. She doesn't want her life and her relationship to be dominated by the demanding parameters of working with the Akatsuki…Konan had once confessed that, _because _of their obligations with and to the Akatsuki, it was unlikely that she and Pein would ever truly find a real home for themselves or have children, and Sakura knows that someday, _she _will want those things for herself.

Besides, she's had a lifetime's worth of trouble and field missions and 'adventure,' as Naruto would put it, and she's ready for that to end, one way or another. Sometimes she misses healing and working to preserve life, instead of ending it.

In all honesty, she doesn't know what she wants, and that is the worst kind of agony. She only has three or so weeks, at most, to come to a decision—

Sakura moans quietly, leaning forward and burying her face in her hands. She hasn't been this horribly, verging-on-physical-illness kind of anxious since she had been sixteen. She's losing sleep, and can't think in straight lines – not about herself and Itachi, or the coup, or the future, or anything.

"Apartment Complex C, Unit 26."

Sakura looks up, startled, blinking as her bloodshot eyes come in contact with the light. "What—"

Kakashi tosses the pair of slender silver keys down in front of her, and they make an almost musical sound as they clatter against the aged wood of the table. "That's where you and the Uchiha will be staying," he says, in a tone that tries – and fails – to sound carefree. "Gaara's in some important meeting, but I just talked to his secretary – apparently Sand's population has boomed over the past few years; last year, Gaara ordered the construction of fourteen new apartment complexes. They've just put the finishing touches on them, and that's where Gaara's decided to board all of our missing-nin as we take the next few weeks to finish moving in and prepare for the conflict itself."

"Oh," Sakura comments dazedly, picking up the keys and absentmindedly curling her palm around them. "Thanks – that was really good of him…"

Kakashi nods somberly. "The best of it is that Gaara's allied with the Land of Earth, now – east of the Fire Country, so Earth's leader has essentially made an announcement that _they _are the ones providing political sanctuary for us. Danzou can't order Root forces to invade the sovereign country of Earth, but according to Inoichi, he's concentrating all of his defensive forces _outside _of Konoha, near the border, which leaves the west side of Konoha, if not the entire village itself, vulnerable to our initial sweep."

Sakura nods determinedly, pushing a few strands of hair back into her ponytail. "Fine – then, when do we start preparing?"

"We're in Sand already," shrugs Kakashi, looking around at the simple yet elegant décor of the visitor's center of the Kazekage's tower. "But we're waiting on more than half of our people; letters say that they should be here within the next day, though. Gaara says that, starting from the morning of the day after tomorrow, we have full reign of all of Sand's training grounds."

Sakura nods again, and not for the first time, the enormity of all of it hits her so hard that it feels like a hard, blunt physical impact to the stomach. "So," she says quietly, drawing the back of her hand across her forehead exhaustedly; she feels utterly drained in almost every way. "This is it."

Kakashi leans down, ruffling her dust-ridden, sand-coated hair gently. "Go home and get some rest, Sakura," he tells her softly. "I'll be in Complex B, Unit 15, if you need me."

Sakura gives him a weary smile, standing up as well. She doesn't dare to ask if Naruto is here yet. "Thanks, Kakashi."

He vanishes in a swirl of leaves, and she does so a moment afterward, the cherry blossoms of her jutsu a little bit more pale and withered than customary.

Sakura lands in the middle of her assigned apartment in the next second, feeling momentarily disoriented. The entire building is obviously new, and in impeccable condition. The floor, ceiling, and walls seem to be crafted out of dark red cherrywood, a sophisticated color scheme echoed throughout Kazekage Tower. The minimalist, oddly futuristic furniture and decorations – dark purple paint splashed artistically on stark white canvas comprise the paintings scattered randomly over the walls – are so different from anything that she has ever seen before that the pink-haired kunoichi just has to stare. The place even smells new and untouched, and a rose-scented reed diffuser placed on the center of a coffee table in the small living room completes the general comfortableness of the entire scene, and for a moment, Sakura just closes her eyes and breathes it in, reminding herself to make an appointment to thank Gaara in person.

Before she can follow the thought to completion, though, she is interrupted by the sound of somebody clearing their throat softly, and Sakura opens her eyes, startled to find Itachi calmly leaning against the wall, a few feet in front of her. He had disappeared really early this morning, a little bit before sunrise, murmuring something ambiguous about acquiring some supplies that she might find 'useful' for the coup, and she had been too tired to question it, then.

…And now, really. Forgetting her earlier worries for just a few moments, Sakura walks forward, and the breath leaves her body in a slow sigh as Itachi wraps his arms around her, pulling her close. The sun is setting, through the large window right next to them, and the purple-and-golden light of the clouds creates interesting shadows all over him and their apartment, filling the space with soft, subtle warmth. Feeling herself relax even further, she turns her cheek to rest against his collarbone, feeling the slightest of smiles tug at her lips. "I can never understand how it is that you manage to just turn up like that."

"You have a rather prominent chakra signature," Itachi replies quietly, stroking her hair. "One could even call it magnetic."

His words remind her of some of the lamer jokes that Ino would make about her forehead, and Sakura laughs a little, for the first time in what feels like weeks, as she withdraws slightly, meeting Itachi's gaze. At first glance, he looks just as calm and detached as ever, but upon further scrutiny, he looks a little tenser than usual, with an intensity in his eyes that is almost unnerving.

Sakura isn't sure what makes her do it, but she reaches her left hand out tentatively, brushing her palm against his face, before reaching up and tucking a few long, disarrayed strands of hair behind his ear. Itachi just watches her, still looking a little off balance, but then, in a gesture that seems to surprise both of them equally, he tilts his head to the side a little, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of her palm.

The uncharacteristically tender action makes Sakura's heart constrict a little – _how am I ever going to learn to live without you? – _but then, thankfully, before she can complete this thought, Itachi distracts her by interlacing their fingers together, slowly pulling her hand down to a more acceptable level.

Sakura closes her eyes, unable to look at him just yet. "Itachi, when all of this is over—" she begins, in a small voice, unable to hear anything over the pounding of her own heart.

Itachi is still holding her hand, but then she feels something else – something cool and unfamiliar – slide up one of her fingers.

Supposedly, it is medically impossible, but Sakura's heart skips a beat.

Stunned, she opens her eyes, staring down at the elegant silver ring, topped with the most beautifully cut, brightest emerald she has ever seen in her life.

Itachi just looks at her, the expression on his face absolutely unreadable, as he smoothes a few stray locks of hair behind her ear, just as she had done for him a few moments ago. "When it's over," he echoes softly, before turning around and quietly walking away; disappearing into the darkness of the hallway.

The sun is slipping under the horizon, filling the apartment with shadows, but too overwhelmed to think or even breathe, Sakura just numbly stares at the engagement ring, bringing her left hand close to her heart.

* * *

_to be continued_

* * *

I sincerely apologize for the horribly late update. Things with the last couple of weeks of school and first week of summer were just really busy. But school got out last week (which means I'm a glorious high school senior now :D), my mom's health has been improving at an incredible rate, and life is good again. I'd like to inform everybody that I'm on summer break until late July, and this story will definitely be finished by then…but then, I'm _also _on summer break, which means I finally have things to do besides homework and writing. I'll try to get the next chapter out in a timely manner, though.

As always, thank you so much to everybody who left comments on the last chapter, and any and all feedback would be very much appreciated. :)


	20. The Last Stand

_As always, thank you so very much to everybody who was splendid enough to review. :)_

_-_

_Chapter Twenty: The Last Stand_

_-_

There is a small window in their bedroom, facing the east, and providing a moonlit view of the distant mountains that border Sand. They are all darkness and shadow right now, interrupted only by the occasional sharp sliver of silver moonlight that filters through the stormy gray clouds.

The windowsill is starkly white and cold underneath his fingers, and Itachi tightens his grip unconsciously, forcing himself to calmly stare out at the scenery through the silky violet curtains. The wind distantly echoes through the glass, but he can focus on nothing but futilely attempting to steady his racing heart. It is disconcerting, to say the least, that he has not experienced such a state of emotional turmoil and intense apprehension, even _anxiety_, since his and Sakura's confrontation with Madara, so long ago.

His purple-painted fingernails are making slight indents in the wood, now, and for the first time, it occurs to Itachi that perhaps he should have stayed in the room long enough to receive Sakura's answer. In hindsight, it seems like pure common sense, but the entire – experience – had rattled him more than he likes to admit. His previous engagement to Shisui had been contracted by their respective parents, when both of them were just months old; therefore, he had no experience whatsoever in how to properly propose marriage, and—

Itachi's eyes narrow almost imperceptibly as he wrenches away from the window, before beginning to pace up and down the length of the small room. It is a nervous habit that he detests, and he despises this weakness in himself as well; this shameful, nearly paralyzing nervousness that seems to have completely overwhelmed him without his personal consent.

_She will accept, _he tells himself firmly, rationally, logically, trying to drive out the little demons of emotion and second-thoughts that are slinking into his mind and quietly, venomously hissing that Sakura will do otherwise. It had not been an impulsive decision on his part; this is something that he has given much thought to, over the past few months or so. Though Itachi shies from admitting it, even within the privacy of his own mind, imagining a life without Sakura has become impossible. Despite Kakashi's not-so-subtle threats, as well, he has no intention of letting her go without a fight. Because, after all, over the years, Itachi has come to know and understand Sakura almost as well as he does himself.

After he had thought about it for a long time, Itachi had decided that maybe it is not Konoha itself that she wants – the idea of some kind of security and stability is what most strongly attracts Sakura, no matter where such things can be found. He has not had a home for ten years, and is more than accustomed to the lifestyle of a missing-nin and an Akatsuki member, but Sakura…she had been forced to come to terms with it, and it is more than likely that after three years of roaming the world, she is more than ready to settle down somewhere and have a real home. If that is what Konoha will offer her, then she will take it. If he offers the same thing…well, that answer has yet to be seen.

Taking a deep breath, Itachi returns to the windowsill, closing his eyes momentarily. He has never put himself in such an extraordinarily vulnerable position in his entire life, and it is nerve-wrenchingly difficult in every way.

-

Sakura's chest and stomach feel like they have tightened up into little knots, and her fingers shake a little as she stretches out to place one steadying hand on the doorframe, as she takes in the novelty of the sight with wide eyes. Itachi is standing in front of the window, his back to her, and from even just a passing glance at his profile, he looks as nervous as she feels.

Perversely enough, this thought gives her a little comfort, as the pink-haired kunoichi crosses the room in a few small, tentative steps.

The wooden floor is chilly against Sakura's bare feet, the silence heavy and uncomfortable, as she edges between Itachi and the windowsill, leaning against it a little unsteadily; she feels his muscles stiffen visibly as their arms brush together, but she can't bring herself to look at him just yet. Similarly, he seems to be staring at a fixed point about eight inches over her head, until, steeling herself, Sakura stretches up to wrap her arms around his neck, turning her head to the side and letting it rest against his collarbone.

She thought she had waited long enough for her voice to regain at least some measure of coherence, but it defies her, getting caught and stuck in her throat and, for a moment, refusing to come out at all.

"Yes."

The word is nearly a whisper, barely audible even to her own ears and muffled even further against his chest, and it takes a moment for Itachi to register it, but then he is letting out a breath he hadn't even known he was holding, and Sakura blinks, a little stunned, as she feels him wrap his arms around her tightly and hold her even closer; leaning down and pressing his lips into her hair. She closes her eyes, marveling at the bittersweet sensation, as a small smile fights its way onto her lips. "You're acting like you're surprised," she teases quietly, but part of her is stunned at her own audacity, momentarily unable to comprehend, despite the silver ring weighing down her left hand, that she is actually _engaged._

There hadn't been any question about whether she wanted to accept or not, though – for once in her life, Sakura hadn't wanted to sit there and agonize endlessly about pros and cons and what-ifs and generally overthink things. Maybe she had been uncharacteristically impulsive and foolish for only taking five minutes to think it through, but unlike in the civilian world, for shinobi, eighteen is considered more than old and mature enough to be making such a commitment, and besides, she and Itachi have been living together for the past three years. She's seen him at his best and worst, and vice versa, and together, they have been through more than most people would see – or ever possibly imagine – in an entire lifetime. She loves him unquestionably, just as he does her, and despite her morose contemplations of the past few weeks, Sakura honestly cannot envision returning to Konoha without Itachi and choosing to spend the rest of her life with (or, hell, even _dating_) some nameless, faceless shinobi.

The mere thought is enough to make her shudder a little, and Sakura glances up at her lover almost uncertainly. From conversations with Ino and everything that general societal norms dictate, it would be reasonable to believe that this is the one happy occasion guaranteed to crack the smallest of smiles, _at least,_ out of even the most stoic shinobi, but this doesn't seem to be the case. Still, right now, Itachi looks more content, relaxed, and at peace than she has ever seen him, the moonlight softening the regal lines of his face as he closes his eyes for a moment, continuing to gently stroke her hair, and it quietly takes Sakura's breath away.

There's so much that they need to talk about. Where they're going to live, how they're going to make things work; there are a million issues that need to be sorted out, because even though she had tried to make things uncomplicated for once, the reality of the situation _is _that things are going to be incredibly difficult and painful for both of them to work through. And, in all honesty, she can do nothing more than _hope _that it will be possible for them to come to an understanding regarding their future, even though there are a million little nagging, vicious voices in her head that are pointing out that their barriers, regarding certain things, threaten to be absolutely insurmountable. But, for now…

The windowsill is digging into the middle of her back, and her current position is more than uncomfortable, but still, Sakura reaches up and takes hold of Itachi's long ponytail gently, twining her fingers into his hair and stroking it out against the textured material of his dark blue, almost-black long-sleeved shirt. The moonlight brings out the faint, barely-visible dark brown undertones of his hair, and the expression in his eyes makes her give a shy, flustered smile. It's not like Itachi is giving her one of the overly squishy, loving, adoring, _I-worship-the-ground-you-walk-on_ looks that the likes of Rock Lee and even Naruto would send her way at least three times a day – it is subtle, but intense, and even after so long, Itachi has never ceased looking somewhat fascinated by her and the effect that she has come to have on him…and it leaves no doubt that he cares for her more than he knows how to put into words.

Slowly and almost tentatively, Sakura pulls Itachi down to her, wrapping her arms around his neck when he reaches a more manageable level. It feels like it takes an impossibly long time for their lips to touch – it has never ceased to simultaneously amuse and mortify her that he is very nearly a foot taller than her – but then they are kissing, warmly, even heatedly, with more slow, gradual passion and hungriness between them than there has been in months. Sakura trails her fingertips down the line of his jaw, re-tracing the contours that she has come to memorize, in a light touch that does its part to set his nerve endings on fire, as he lightly caresses her hips and her lower back, the warmth of his hands burning through the material of her vest.

Gently, Itachi pulls her away from the windowsill and leans her against the wall instead, holding her there with the weight of his body, even as he slowly tilts his head, changing the angle and the depth of the kiss in the same instant – earning himself the slightest of gasps from his pink-haired kunoichi – that he slips one firm, calloused palm up the hem of her sleek, fitted black vest, so that it brushes against the small of her back. Sakura actually purrs in contentment, standing up on the tips of her toes and trying her best to fit them even closer together, even though she practically wedges one of her hands tightly between their chests as she attempts to pull the zipper on her vest downward.

But then one of Itachi's hands has closed around that wrist, holding it in place, and he sounds somewhat amused as he slowly, lightly tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "You seem to be oddly un-talkative tonight, Sakura," he murmurs into the ear in question, his lips brushing the sensitive skin there, and the delicious sensation, in combination with the slight hoarseness of his low voice, sends shivers down Sakura's spine.

The pink-haired kunoichi smirks a little as she leans into Itachi's embrace, running her hands up and down the length of his leanly muscled chest playfully. "Is that a problem?" Sakura purrs, amused at the way that he has to force his breath to _not _catch in his throat.

"No," Itachi returns immediately, moving the hand from the from the small of her back to the slender curve of her waist, rubbing his thumb in slow circles against her skin in a way that makes her bite her lip and arch into his touch, and Sakura can practically feel the matching smirk curving his lips as he says this. "It is just highly uncharacteristic."

_(If I ignore the technicalities, right now, I think I could be the happiest girl in the world—)_

"You're killing the mood, Uchiha," Sakura replies in her best faux-seductive tone – no matter how many times she has tested the tone in question out with Itachi over the past couple of years, using it still makes her blush and feel faintly ridiculous – before linking a couple of her fingers into the zipper of her vest, suggestively pulling it just a few inches downward. She has to bite back a tiny, rebellious giggle at the way Itachi's gaze follows the movement…as well as the glint of the bright emerald on her engagement ring, as if he is still unused to the sight of it on her finger. "Still complaining?" Sakura asks flirtatiously, pulling the zipper down even further.

In a rare, unguarded moment, Itachi's eyes darken ever so slightly with an emotion that she can't place, as he gently moves her hand aside and finishes the job himself. "Not in the least," he whispers, pushing Sakura's vest off her shoulders with a single, smooth movement, and she smiles as he leans down again, claiming her lips with his.

-

_The Next Morning_

-

Itachi wakes up to the sound of the slamming of several wooden cupboards, the frantic pacing of a rather familiar pair of knee-high boots against the floor, and the even more familiar sound of Sakura panicking.

"Late, late," she wails almost incoherently, through the large slice of buttered bread that she seems to have stuffed whole into her mouth.

Itachi blinks, disoriented, as he pulls himself into a sitting position. One glance out of the window confirms that the sun is just rising into a foggy morning, and he does not think that Sakura has been up this early in years; he cannot imagine what on earth she could possibly be _late _for. "What?"

Sakura chews determinedly for about a minute as she stuffs all the weaponry that she can reach, as well as a volume of offensive medical ninjutsu about the height of Itachi's face, into her pack. "Training," she finally manages to mumble, swallowing with difficulty. "Kakashi left a note outside our door – apparently everyone's settled in, and Gaara gave us license to meet in Sand's largest training area today, for practice and planning and coordination, of sorts, and we're supposed to do that an hour after sunrise – we only have about three weeks to prepare, so—"

Sakura stops abruptly, all the color draining from her face, and Itachi finishes dressing in a few quick movements, but before he can even take one step toward her, she collapses on the edge of the bed, taking a deep breath. "It seems like such a short time," she confesses wearily, checking the zippers on her boots and taking one last, long sip of her supposedly chakra-fortifying orange tea. "Naruto, Jiraiya, and Kakashi seem to think it's enough, and I know that we've all improved so much over the past three years, but…I can't help but feel a little…"

"Nervous," Itachi completes quietly, lightly placing one hand on the small of her back, and Sakura relaxes just a little bit. "Nobody is immune, Sakura, and it would be foolish to expect to be."

She forces herself to smile a little, before leaning into his embrace. "Yeah," she whispers, even as she feels her stomach turn over. "What are you going to do today?"

Itachi shrugs one shoulder, continuing to rub her back comfortingly. "There are certain things that I believe might be helpful to your cause, but they require a small amount more research," he replies evasively.

"_Our_ cause," Sakura corrects absentmindedly, standing up and triple-checking her bag to make sure she has everything she needs. Still, she feels the weight of Itachi's querulous gaze on her back, and she looks back over her shoulder at him, confused. "Well, if we're going to get married," – the words feel strange on her tongue, and she says them too fast, feeling herself blush traitorously as she does so – "we're going to have to live somewhere, right?"

For a moment, Itachi looks startled, like he wants to say something, but then Sakura's eyes light on the clock in the corner of the room, and her eyes widen in something approaching panic.

The words die in Itachi's throat as Sakura flings her arms around his neck, settling herself in his lap for the briefest of moments as she kisses him soundly. "I'll probably be back sometime later this evening," she breathes, sounding more than a little flustered. "I love you, and we'll talk about things later, all right?"

Itachi's arms tighten around her momentarily, and he is unsure of what to say, because if he believed in luck, he would wish her good luck, but part of him stiffens in slight apprehension over what things Sakura wishes to talk about, because he already _thinks _he has a good idea as to what those are, and he knows that that conversation will in no way end well—

She vanishes in her signature swirl of cherry blossoms in the next second, leaving Itachi unable to do anything but close his eyes, already exhausted, even though the day has just barely begun.

-

Kakashi is waiting for her outside of the door to his apartment, and he nods languidly, looking her over, with his mask once again firmly in place. "You're late," he comments, sounding mildly surprised, although he has enough tact and common sense not to ask why. "How very uncharacteristic."

Sakura sighs apologetically as she falls into step beside him, and within a few moments, they are outside. She hasn't been to Sand since the expedition to rescue Gaara, so long ago, and the sharp, perpetual wind, sending waves of dust and grit against her skin and hair, makes her wince, a little. Strangely enough, the sun is creeping up even higher in the sky with every moment that passes, but there is no warmth; a heavy fog cloaks its light, as well, and it is a little disconcerting. Last time she had been here, the dry, blistering heat had scorched the surface of the desert, reducing everything to a stark shade of brown, but then, that had been in the height of summer – and it is the middle of autumn, now, which makes her wonder whether they'll have a monsoon season to contend with—

"Sand has a monsoon season, too," Kakashi replies, as if he was reading her mind, and she sees the outline of an ironic smile through his mask. "Just our luck – we'll be training through it."

"It's for the better, though," Sakura replies, directing a cautious glance upward and eastward, in the direction of Konoha. It feels so strange, being so close – closer than she's been for such a long time – to the place that had been her home for fifteen years; it is filling her with a million different memories that she thought had been long forgotten, making her ache a little inside. "I mean, if it storms during the coup, we wouldn't want to have that take everybody by surprise and disorganize our plans…"

Kakashi nods once, but his eyes are distracted as he looks back toward the path. Sand's largest training ground actually isn't _within _the borders of the village; it is, technically, a treacherous range of desert about a mile and a half east of the open village gates. They walk in silence for a little while, Sakura almost too steeped in a strange mix of trepidation and adrenaline herself to notice the tension and visible discomfort that has settled into her ex-sensei's shoulders; he's thinking of Itachi, she can practically _sense _it, and Sakura glances down at her left hand discreetly – for the first time, it registers to her that the outline of the ring is conspicuous and unmistakable, through the form-fitting material of her tight black gloves.

The path suddenly gives way to nothing more than battered orange sand that flies around in the suddenly sharp wind, making the pink-haired kunoichi duck her head in order to protect her eyes. In doing so, she almost collides with a rusty chain-link fence advertising the beginning of 'Ground Seven,' and Sakura looks up quickly, almost expecting to see every single of her long-lost comrades packed into the impressively flat, empty range of land.

Disappointment is a sharp blade between her ribs; one quick scan of the area confirms that she and Kakashi appear to be completely alone, standing a few feet past the fence and looking vaguely ridiculous, and Sakura spins around, fixing a suspicious glare on the older shinobi. "What—"

Kakashi laughs a little sheepishly, scratching his head. "So, Sakura," he says, by way of explanation, "As you've probably deduced, Sand's training areas don't exactly provide the terrain and…well…_everything _that we need to practice our attack on Konoha."

"Yes?" Sakura asks impatiently, craning her neck in order to observe their surroundings – desolately beautiful, empty stretches of desert in every direction, as far as the eye can see, broken only by the gnarled, towering forms of cactus skeletons. "But it's not like we could get into the forest between Sand and Konoha; the half behind the border is solely property of the Wind Country, anyway, and I don't think even the Kazekage can lend out the property of the Wind Country in order to be used by a…a _guerilla warfare group_ – just think about how much trouble that would get him in with the legislation of the rest of the country…"

Sakura trails off, horrified at the very idea of the complicated legal red tape that Gaara would get into by doing such a thing, and Kakashi shrugs offhandedly. "Yes, well, Gaara decided that what the rest of the Wind Country doesn't know won't hurt them, but we're keeping things on the down-low just in case," he replies in one rather rushed-sounding sentence, taking Sakura by the hand.

"What?" The thought of Tsunade's reaction to such a thing abruptly surfaces, and Sakura actually flinches. "No wonder civilian countries claim to hate having to host shinobi villages—"

Kakashi snorts unceremoniously, turning on the spot, making both of them disappear in a swirl of leaves, and his voice lingers on the wind. "Like they could live without us."

-

In the next second, before Sakura's feet even fully touch down on the forest floor, she is tackled around the middle by a pair of rather familiar arms, and her eardrums nearly burst in response to the simultaneous excited screech that seems to echo in the still, cool air around her.

"Sakura!"

Under Kakashi's amused gaze, Sakura flings her arms around her attacker in a defensive mechanism and staggers backward a few paces, her eyes registering nothing but sleek, dark brown hair, twined up in two elegant buns.

"Tenten?" Sakura asks disbelievingly, as the other girl finally pulls away and gives her a warm smile, her eyes glittering happily. She hasn't seen this other third of the InoSakuTen (she and Tenten had always mocked Ino relentlessly for being dreadfully unimaginative when it came to naming anything) trio in three years, and the older kunoichi looks beautiful. She wears sleek, fitted dark pants and a sleeveless Chinese-style vest of deep, royal purple, and the impeccable image is completed by an actual ANBU sword strapped across her back.

Noticing Sakura's scrutiny, Tenten grins again and unsheathes the magnificent sword proudly. "You could say that it was a gift from the captain of the last Root squad that we ran into before leaving the Fire Country."

Tenten had always been the most outrageously daring out of their small group of friends, and Sakura shakes her head disbelievingly. It feels so, dizzyingly good to be back with one of her old best friends that it is making her nearly lightheaded. "You have to tell me _everything_," the pink-haired kunoichi starts to insist firmly, but then her train of thought is interrupted abruptly, as a certain aspect of the hand that Tenten is balancing her katana with, comes to her attention.

Entertained at the way her friend's face is slowly losing all color, Tenten laughs, re-sheathing the sword in one smooth movement, and her diamond ring glitters in the faint sunlight. "It's old news, Sakura-chan," she teases. "Last spring, actually."

The smile still in her eyes, she nods at Sakura playfully, her eyes glancing over the telltale spot on her gloves. "And you? Well, it's hardly a surprise; you look absolutely amazing, but who _is _it…?"

Suddenly uncomfortably aware of Kakashi's presence at her side and the way she feels him abruptly stiffening, though his gaze is determinedly fixed on something in the distance, Sakura curls her hand into a self-conscious fist at her side. "Later," she murmurs, out of the corner of her mouth, hating the fact that she was so careless. She should have nothing to hide; she isn't _ashamed _of it, by any means, but still, it doesn't mean that she's eager to share her happy news with everybody within earshot. Doing so would probably get her lynched by everybody with the exception of Tenten, anyway—

"Come on," Kakashi interrupts, his voice suddenly strained and terse, as he moves past the two kunoichi, leading them toward the center of the forest proper. "There's really no time for talk, in any case; we're scheduled to begin in fifteen minutes."

Tenten spares a moment to give Sakura a questioning look, before slinging one friendly arm across her shoulders. "There aren't too many of our group at the clearing," she explains, as they follow after Kakashi. "Jiraiya and Naruto decided that it would be way too risky for the clan members to risk leaving Konoha in order to meet up with us here; that would tip off Danzou in knowing that there's definitely something up, anyway. So Ino, Shikamaru, Chouji, Kiba, Shino, Hinata, and Neji's clans are all privately organizing their own revolt for the night of the coup; they're going to rebel from the inside and take out as many of Danzou's people and remaining Root members as they can."

Sakura nods, taking all the information in. "So, how many people do we have right now?"

"Sixty," Tenten replies, a little apprehensively. "The main strength of our forces are the clan members already within Konoha, of course, but…"

A shiver of trepidation runs down Sakura's spine; even though the majority of the Root forces are supposedly stationed outside of Konoha and nearer to the border of Earth, expecting an attack from there, there will still be almost two hundred Root members left within Konoha.

"Yeah," Tenten sighs, correctly reading the expression on Sakura's face. "But I'm confident that we have a more diverse array of skills, _and _the element of surprise is on our side as well, so…"

"Well, then," Sakura replies grimly, fighting to extricate her best roll of weaponry from her ripping-at-the-seams pack. She has been practicing offensive medical ninjutsu for the past year and a half, and Itachi has taught her a decent array of genjutsu and elemental ninjutsu, as well. Weapon-related combat is the only thing that she is still sorely lacking in, and if she ends up facing a katana-wielding Root member, she'll need to know enough to hold her own at least long enough to disarm him. "We've got ten minutes before Naruto and Jiraiya start things, I guess – so let's start practicing."

-

_Late Afternoon_

-

Sakura would like to think that her endurance and stamina has improved a thousandfold in the three years she's been away from Konoha, but still, by the time that the first break is called, she just barely manages to stagger over to the stream in order to refill her flask of water, before collapsing in a heap underneath a large oak tree. The majority of her muscles are screaming in protest, and the ones that aren't are all completely numb. Tiredly, she downs half of the bottle in one gulp, before stripping her gloves off and pouring the rest over her head, raking her fingers through her wet hair and tilting her head up to the distant, emerald-green canopy. The fog had been compounded by a heavy, oppressive monsoon-season humidity that seems to pervade every inch of the forest, and the air smells of the residue of choking ash and smoke, thanks to Genma and his specialized squad practicing their coordinated Katon attacks – designated to smash through the west gate of Konoha, and the Root forces on patrol there.

Sakura fans herself halfheartedly, the cold relief of the water dissipating more quickly than it should in the less-than-comfortable atmosphere. They have an hour to rest and replenish their chakra, and she is in special need of it. She and Shizune had spent the last two hours testing the exact range of their medical ninjutsu, and Kurenai had been giving both of them tips on how to effectively strengthen their genjutsu and make the techniques in question stronger and more crippling for a longer amount of time. Sakura has never been so thankful for her specialized chakra control and large amount of chakra reserves – Kakashi had spent the past hour walking around and checking each squad's attack plan and timing their rehearsals, and his most recent announcement, before break was called, was that the entire coup itself, from the initial attack on Konoha and culminating in the capture of Hokage Tower and hunting down and execution of Danzou and his officials, should take two hours, at most. The faster, the better – but those two hours of continuous combat will be extremely draining and dangerous, to say the least, even though they're supposed to be taking Root and Danzou by surprise, which puts them at a natural advantage.

The pink-haired kunoichi takes a deep breath of the increasingly smoggy air, before letting her eyes slowly drift shut. She had told Tenten she would be here, and she had agreed to come over and wake her up when they were twenty minutes away from starting again. The bark is oddly moist and springy against Sakura's back, and the moss carpeting this area of the forest floor is comfortingly cool; that, combined with the soothing rush of the stream's water against the rocks makes it more calming than she would have imagined, even coupled with the distant sound of voices from the clearing.

In what seems like just a few minutes later, even though her replenished chakra reserves and rested body tells her that it has been much longer, Sakura wakes up to the sound of somebody clearing their throat, sounding distinctly uncomfortable. Even before opening her eyes, she knows that it isn't Tenten – her friend would have probably prodded her ribs mercilessly, or maybe splashed her with some water from the stream. Besides, this person sounds vaguely masculine.

Already bracing herself for the potential need to yell at Kakashi again until he once again realizes that her life is none of his business and she is old and mature enough to get engaged to whoever the hell she wants to, Sakura forces her heavy eyelids open, blinking the last vestiges of sleep from her eyes. It takes a moment for her vision to clear; the fog turns the sunlight a muted, somewhat disorienting shade of orange.

For a moment, Sakura doesn't recognize the man who kneels across from her. He doesn't wear a scrap of his once-signature orange on his body, save for the thin armband tied around his elbow – as a matter of fact, he looks so much like the pictures of the Fourth Hokage that she had seen in the files, while she was Tsunade's apprentice, that it reduces her to speechlessness for half a second. Black turtleneck, olive green jounin vest, black pants, shaggy blonde hair…

Naruto inclines his head awkwardly, looking at her just as intently as she is observing him. "Sakura-cha—Sakura."

"Naruto," Sakura replies, forcing her tone to stay as cool, distant, detached – as Itachi-like – as possible. She has seen him from a distance for all of today, of course; he and Jiraiya had talked to the assembled Konoha shinobi for about half an hour before the group had split up into their respective attack squads, but needless to say, this is the closest that she and Naruto been since their horribly crash-and-burn conversation of one and a half years ago.

From the look on Naruto's face, he knows what she is thinking, and he sighs quietly, looking more emotionally exhausted than Sakura has ever seen him. "It's…probably more than I deserve, from what happened last time, but will you give me a chance to speak?"

"Yeah," Sakura replies sharply, sitting up straighter and trying her best to keep her posture from getting too combative, while meeting his gaze squarely. "If you talk at my face and not my hand."

Naruto tears his eyes away from the emerald-and-silver engagement ring, visibly abashed at being caught, and a faint blush dusts his features as he looks back up at her. "Sorry." He fidgets uncomfortably with the ends of his orange armband for a moment. "Really," he mutters.

Sakura just looks at him wordlessly, knowing that there is more to this than meets the eye.

"I have no finesse," Naruto blurts at last, looking like he would rather be anywhere but here. "I remember that you've told me that at least a thousand times, so I'm just going to come right out and say it. I need you, Sakura. I didn't know _that _was going to be a factor," – he nods at her ring tensely – "but it doesn't change anything."

He pauses, waiting for her reaction, and Sakura just continues to watch him guardedly. "Keep talking," she replies evenly, effortlessly hiding how shocked and confused she is at this apparently random change of heart.

"I mean it," Naruto says abruptly. "Even after – how I've acted or reacted or whatever – I still…you're still one of the people I trust most in the world. Jiraiya's been talking to me about the new officials that I need to install, and I know that nobody could fit one of those roles better than you. You think differently than I do – you're a million times smarter, and Jiraiya's been teaching me a lot, but you _were _Tsunade-sama's apprentice; you have more experience with the finer points of being Hokage and the politics of all of it than I do." He takes a deep breath, looking somewhat more hopeful at the fact that she hasn't cut him off yet. "…Without Tsunade, you, or Shizune, Konoha's medical system has lost a lot of ground – the extent of the medical force that they have now, is that apparently one person per Root squad has to have a passing knowledge of rudimentary medical techniques. It's not nearly enough, and we'll need somebody to build the real medical system back up again."

Naruto sighs deeply, running his fingers through his hair. "It's going to be hard," he mumbles – possibly the understatement of the century – "to get Konoha back to what Tsunade baa-chan had it like. To maybe even improve it. To fix all of Danzou's foreign policy screw-ups and neglect of crucial internal departments. I can't do it alone, Sakura. I can't do it without you. And I'm willing to offer you whatever it takes to—"

He swallows conspicuously, gesturing vaguely at the ring on her finger. "Despite everything else, I owe him – I owe both of you – my life," Naruto murmurs, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. "I give you my word, upon my honor as a shinobi, that I will grant him a full pardon. It'll be as if none of it ever happened. Danzou's accumulated a huge amount of personal funds through kami knows what, and all of those will be confiscated when we take Konoha back…and that should be _more _than enough to refurbish the Uchiha compound, if that's what you two want. He'll have all the rights and privileges, including full access to the clan funds and assets – which have been frozen since…that night – which he's entitled to, as the official head of the clan."

Sakura stares at him, momentarily stunned.

Naruto shrugs, looking determinedly into the stream. "You'll be happy," he explains quietly; offering a hand to her and helping her stand, before doing so himself. He kicks at the soil a little ruefully, obviously unable to believe that he is even saying this. "I – I hated the idea, at first, but if it's this serious, between you and him – if he makes you happy enough that you would want to make things permanent – then I won't make you choose, Sakura. I don't want you to have to live in Sand or Earth or some civilian town somewhere in order for you to be with him. I don't want you to have to sacrifice anything. You deserve so much more than that."

It takes a few moments longer for everything to sink in, in which Naruto carefully avoids looking at her and skips little pebbles into the stream with fingers that have a telltale tremble to them, and Sakura avoids looking at him just as carefully, fixing her gaze intently on a fallen acorn. This is as close to an apology as she will get from him; the best that he can do, and perhaps it is a delayed reaction, but her throat is tight and nearly closing over, her eyes beginning to burn more with every second that passes.

Finally, Naruto caves and directs a quick, cautious glance down at her, and despite his numerous other faults, he always has been rather sensitive to her emotions, and he looks horrified at realizing the particular one that is threatening to take over. "Sakura-chan?" he asks, sounding somewhat panicked, and he reaches out to her, all attempts at stoicity and maturity abandoned, and for a few moments, he's that loud, innocent, exuberant fifteen-year-old chunin again. "Don't _cry_, Sakura-chan – are you alright?"

With more strength than even she knew that she possessed, Sakura knocks Naruto's hand aside. "Of course I'm not all right, you idiot," she replies, trying to keep her voice as tightly controlled as possible, and momentarily unable to deal with all the emotion inside of her. The old resentment, anger, betrayal – and the new, intoxicating gratitude, for his maturity and understanding and—

"You _hurt _me!" Sakura snaps, taking a step closer to Naruto, blinking the threatening tears away, and glaring up at him fiercely, and, startled, he steps back. "Were you – are you – _completely _blind to that fact? I was counting on you – you were all I had – and you were selfish and insensitive and close-minded and cruel, and you have no idea – no _fucking _idea – how much it messed me up!"

Ever since Sasuke left, she has always been strong for him, always been his strength and support, and now, confronted with this accusation, of all things, Naruto couldn't have looked more stunned if she had pulled out a kunai and stabbed him in the heart with it. "Sakura-chan, I know," he sputters, looking panicked, "and I _don't _know why, because I always promised myself I wouldn't be like…like him…but I screwed up—"

"That's damn right!" Sakura doesn't know why, but she is yelling now; yelling at the top of her lungs, like she hasn't in years, and she doesn't care; the tears have retreated somewhere, leaving only an icy cold fury in their wake. "You promised me, on your life, on your honor as a shinobi, years ago – you were never supposed to hurt me like he did, Naruto, but you were a million times worse!"

She stops abruptly, the bitter words, born out of her own darkest contemplations, abandoning her completely, leaving only a heavy, tense silence in their wake. Naruto looks like she had punched him, and Sakura turns away sharply, forcing herself to regain some semblance of calm. She hadn't meant to say that last part; she really hadn't, but it can't be taken back. Her heart is racing, the blood audibly pounding in her ears, and the tightness in her chest and throat is making it difficult to breathe. She wants to cry. She wants to run as far away from here as possible and fling herself into Itachi's arms and beg him to run away with her, all over again. And an equally sized part of Sakura wants to turn around and wrap Naruto in her arms and forgive and move on; to take full advantage of the opportunity he has given her, out of guilt or remorse or true nobility, or whatever it is—

Her body is so keyed up on adrenaline that when Naruto takes a few slow, tentative steps closer, before embracing her fully, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and leaning his chin down to rest on the top of her head, for a few moments, Sakura wants to twist away. But then her energy abandons her entirely, and she is sinking back into his arms, and dazedly, she can hear him whispering a thousand tortured-sounding apologies and statements of self-loathing.

She doesn't know which one of them had started crying first, but after what feels like a long time, the worst of it is over, and they are sitting next to each other underneath the oak tree, self-consciously wiping their tears away.

"I'm an idiot and I'm so incredibly sorry," Naruto mumbles, for what has to be the millionth time.

"I know," Sakura replies, her voice a little raw, as she finishes washing her face with the cold, clear stream water.

"What I offered you earlier – the pardon and all the stuff that goes along with it – I know it's not as big of an apology as you deserve, but still—"

"It's enough. Or, close to it, anyway."

Naruto nods a little sadly, before holding out one hand to her. "It's about to start again – we should probably go back," he says uncertainly.

Sakura takes it, and he pulls her up to her feet easily, but even when she tries to walk away, Naruto holds on for a second too long. "Friends?" he asks quietly.

Her back is to him, but Sakura smiles a little, anyway, giving him a little tug forward as she does so. "Yeah," she replies softly, unable to shake the feeling that everything has changed, yes, but at the same time – everything is right with the world again.

-

_Later That Night_

-

Maybe it was just the surge of endorphins resulting from her unexpected reconciliation with Naruto, but by the time Jiraiya and Naruto officially declare the end of the first day of rehearsal, Sakura feels incredibly, indescribably…better. At the beginning of the day, she had felt a little bit hopeless and apprehensive about the entire thing, and maybe it is reckless, but now, her confidence has surged. Tenten was right – the Root forces outnumbered them greatly, but the Root forces were also incredibly uniform and every single member all had the exact same array of typified skills – a decent, equal balance of ninjutsu, taijutsu, and elementary genjutsu, with no one area outshining the other or no member specializing in one or another. They also all fought with the katana, of course, and the main danger in facing any one of them in combat was that all of them were incredibly proficient with the S-ranked chakra sealing jutsu, the memory of which still sends a shiver down Sakura's spine; she'll never forget being the recipient of that, during two of her most terrifying encounters with her Root squad in the early months of being a missing-nin.

Conversely, Sakura considers, walking back through the deserted streets of Sand, toward her apartment as she toys with her key absentmindedly, their forces may lack in numbers, but each squad is not only proficient in ninjutsu, taijutsu, and genjutsu, but each of them has an area that they specialize in. Genma's initial Katon attack squad, Lee's offensive taijutsu team, Kurenai and her group of elite genjutsu users, Naruto's group of shinobi with the most aggressive combat ninjutsu imaginable – not to mention the total amount of shinobi, Naruto, Jiraiya, and Kakashi included, who are capable of using their animal summons to wreak large amounts of havoc and destruction on the Root forces.

Sakura is supposed to split her time between long-range offensive medical ninjutsu and genjutsu attacks on the Root squads, both outside and inside of Konoha, and Naruto had quietly informed her that once they infiltrated the village and took Hokage Tower, she would join him in personally hunting down Danzou.

The thought sends an almost unsettlingly bloodthirsty chill of satisfaction through her entire body, enough so that Sakura's hands tremble momentarily, as she slips the key into the lock.

It takes a moment for the sight to register, and Sakura blinks, all thoughts of the coup slowly vanishing from her head.

Candles. Pretty, yellow, lemongrass-scented candles, scattered artistically over the available surfaces of the apartment, and Sakura drops her pack on the floor with a dull thud, for the second time that day, feeling a little lost for words.

She's always known Itachi could cook – he had "learned", when the two of them had been forced to shelter in some civilian's locked-up mountain cottage in the middle of a blizzard. There had been a fully stocked kitchen inside, with pots and pans and countless ingredients, but she and Itachi had just stood in the middle of it and stared around blankly for no less than five minutes, completely lost as to what to do. Finally, Itachi had wordlessly turned around and gone to the other room, turned on the small, dusty television, and to Sakura's amazement, flipped to the cooking channel and watched it unblinkingly, with the Sharingan activated. At the end of the hour, he silently returned to the kitchen and effortlessly cooked the most flawless and delicious dinner for two that Sakura had ever eaten.

He's only done that a handful of times since then, and this would appear to be one of them. Perversely enough, the gesture sends alarm bells going in Sakura's head, as she walks forward slowly, wrapping her arms around Itachi, who is meticulously finishing wrapping the last onigiri in seaweed. He only ever cooks when the situation demands it, or when he happens to be feeling particularly restless or anxious…although the way he wraps an arm around her, wordlessly tugging her to his side and hugging her close for the briefest of moments in a rare moment of expressiveness, would seem to indicate that everything is perfectly normal.

"Onigiri with umeboshi," Sakura beams, deciding to be optimistic, as she stands on her tiptoes and kisses him on the cheek playfully. Belatedly, she realizes that she hasn't eaten anything except the small, standardized mission rations that Tenten, Lee, and Gai had managed to acquire from who knows where before coming here – and that had been _hours _ago, long enough for the aroma of the freshly-cooked food to make her feel a little lightheaded with desire. "My favorite…"

Unfazed by the almost overwhelmingly affectionate looks that Sakura is sending his way, Itachi takes one of her hands in his, and effortlessly balances the plate of finished onigiri in the other, as he carefully leads her to the candlelit living room. Unwilling to risk spilling anything on the elegant furniture, Sakura sinks down on the floor instead with a grateful sigh; her muscles nearly hum in a relieved reaction to this well-deserved rest, and she leans her back against the sofa limply, letting her head fall back against the edge of the cushions. Itachi follows suit, his movements a million times more effortlessly graceful than hers, and for a few minutes, there is nothing but silence, as Sakura wolfs down her food ravenously, hardly even stopping to take a breath.

Itachi watches, amused despite himself, until Sakura finishes, and the moment she does, she edges the plate aside and flings her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly, again. "You are, without a doubt, the most singularly incredible person that I have ever been privileged to know," she testifies dramatically. "If I ever say anything less than rapturously admiring of you ever again, then—"

"I will know that you have returned to a state of relative normalcy," Itachi completes dryly, placing one hand on the small of her back. Sakura's chakra is unusually low, and her skin is pale, with dark circles underneath her eyes. Even now that she has eaten, an occasional, involuntary tremor still runs through the length of her muscles, and it worries him that she should be this drained after a mere rehearsal – if so, he would not like to think about the effect that an intense conflict like the real thing would have on her…

"How was it?" Itachi asks quietly, his tone unreadable, and even though she is nearly too exhausted to talk, Sakura obliges, telling him everything, until her voice nearly gives out.

"…And you won't _believe _what Naruto did," she sighs tiredly, collapsing against him, when there is nothing else left to tell. "He apologized to me, yeah, because he's been forced to accept our relationship now, and he knows he was an idiot and an ass…and because he says he needs me to help him rebuild the village – especially the medical system; it's apparently fallen into disrepair since Danzou took over, it's really horrible. I guess, to motivate me to stay, Naruto offered you a full pardon – wiping the slate clean, essentially. He intends to unfreeze the clan's assets and give you all the rights and privileges afforded to the head of the clan." Sakura directs a somewhat wary look up at Itachi as she intertwines their fingers together. "He even offered us Danzou's personal funds in order to refurbish the Uchiha compound…"

Her voice has been getting quieter and quieter with every word that passes, and Sakura is momentarily surprised to realize that she is actually holding her breath, waiting for a reaction.

Itachi's muscles tense against hers, and finally, after a few long, uncomfortable moments, the silence heavy between them, he exhales, barely audibly.

For Sakura, it is more than she could ever have hoped for. Her (utterly pigheaded and asinine) best friend's forgiveness, as well as the opportunity to return to doing what she loves most – healing and working as a medic. She could truly make a difference in Konoha – become the new Tsunade – and Itachi knows that Sakura would love feeling so needed; like she was playing a crucial role in rebuilding the village. Above all, she would value the opportunity to have the security and stability that she craves, while living in the place she loves.

This opportunity gives Sakura everything she could ever want.

And, kami, Itachi _wants _to accept. He wants to enable her fairy-tale ending, with the two of them and, eventually, their children, living happy, peaceful and uncomplicated lives in the new Uchiha compound. He wants her to be happy; he wants to _make _her happy; he can envision how Sakura's eyes would light up at the single affirmative word from him; how she would fling her arms around him hard enough to knock both of them to the floor and immediately start planning their beautiful, perfect future out, barely able to contain the excitement in her voice.

It has been eight years. It should be far enough behind him, but—

It will never be far enough. And in the privacy of his mind, Itachi can admit that he thought he would do anything for Sakura, but this…

Part of her knows what he is going to say before he even says it, but then Itachi takes a surprisingly ragged breath, purposely looking away from her. He just shakes his head fractionally, apparently unable to even speak, but he squeezes Sakura's hand for the briefest of moments, before pulling that away as well, angling his entire body away from her, and even though they are just a few inches apart, it suddenly feels like so much more.

Sakura's heart sinks somewhere into the region of her stomach, and she knows what he's been through, she understands that it _would _hurt and she really shouldn't push it, but some desperate little voice inside her compels her to reach out, taking Itachi's hand again and trying to tug him back to her. "I know," she finds herself almost-pleading. "But it – half of the people who ordered it are dead now, and I swear that I'll kill the others – I'll kill _Danzou –_ with my bare hands if it makes anything better; I'll do anything, Itachi—"

There is something that could almost pass for pity written on Itachi's features, for her or for himself, but it is gone within the next moment, leaving only that too-familiar emotionless façade, and for a moment, he looks like he wants to reach out to her, but then he pulls his hand back to himself. "No, Sakura," he says, the words barely audible and sounding almost painful.

"Itachi, please—"

One of the candles flickers, turning Itachi's eyes suddenly crimson; before she can even blink, his hand is on her wrist, bruisingly strong, and they are nose-to nose, and Sakura's breath catches in her throat. "Do I need to _show _you why I can never go back there?" Itachi asks, his voice low and dangerous and almost unrecognizable. "Do you _want _to witness every single reason why I – trust me, Sakura, if you had lived through what I have, if you had any real understanding of it—"

She has become even more adept at dispelling genjutsu over the past years, but this steals over her with a sudden, implacable dark, chilling coldness – just tiny flickers of images of the dark wooden floor – the floor of the bedroom that she and Itachi would share – soaked through with impossibly large, damp bloodstains; bodies littering the side streets of the compound, blood everywhere, _everywhere_, the echoes of screams in the still air, a perverse counterpart to the well-kept compound's serene evening beauty.

And then it breaks, and Itachi curls his hands into fists to mask the way they are trembling. Sakura looks away sharply, unsure why her heart is constricting so much and why she feels so suddenly nauseous. "Don't," she manages, her voice unsteadier than she would like, as she pulls away from him and retreats a few feet away, as if the attack had been physical rather than mental.

Her heart hurts, her head is suddenly pounding with crushing, dizzying disappointment and guilt for even asking that of him, combined with this inexplicable, intense frustration, and Sakura tries her best to calm her breathing, leaning her head against the sofa cushion again and pressing the heels of her hands over her eyes.

_What am I going to do?_

The question repeats over and over in her head, and Sakura _knows_ that Itachi would do anything for her. He's put himself in between her and the path of some kind of weapon at least four times, three of which had resulted in major injury. So she shouldn't be feeling like this; she should suck it up and stop being so selfish…

Her right palm falls limply to the floor, landing face-up, and after what seems like an eternity, Itachi reaches out to her, gently brushing his fingertips against hers. Even though Sakura's eyes are still closed, and it feels like they are still sitting a few feet apart, the tension in his movements is all too painfully clear.

It wouldn't have hurt so much if she hadn't stupidly allowed herself to get her hopes up. About somehow changing the image of the Uchiha clan and compound and starting over again; about walking five minutes from home to the hospital and finishing her work and then coming home to Itachi and making dinner together. Maybe watching their children play at throwing toy kunai around the gardens, or her being able to walk them over to the Academy and drop them off on her way to work. About being a stone's throw from everybody she loves – _everybody, _and living the life that she always dreamed of.

Sakura takes Itachi's hand, a little distantly, and they interlace their fingers together loosely, both of them still looking in opposite directions.

He wants to apologize, but the words keep getting stuck in his throat, and, in the end, it is Sakura who speaks first. "What now?" she asks, her voice unusually quiet and flat.

"I don't know."

Her fingers brush against his palm for a second, but then Sakura stands up, walking away without a second glance. The thick heels of her boots echo against the wooden floors of the darkened hallway, and then the bedroom door closes with a definitive _click, _eerily loud and final-sounding in the utter silence that has overtaken the apartment.

One of the candles gutters out, darkening the moonless night even further, and Itachi just watches the darkened flame detachedly, unsure of what to think.

-

_Three Weeks Later_

-

They haven't talked about it since. Sakura doesn't know whether it is just paranoia or whether there really is a small, barely-tangible wedge between her and Itachi – she's trying not to treat him any differently, after that disastrous first night, but still…there has just been this indescribable shift in their relationship, and she doesn't like it. Sunrise to sunset is taken up with practice for the coup, but even after that, when she and Itachi are alone together, their time has regained that quality of being so…limited. Like they are fast approaching a time limit; an expiration date, even though the ring on her finger says that there should be no such thing.

Sakura doesn't dare to bring it up in conversation. The daily practices are draining, physically, mentally, and emotionally, and she can't take any more stress on top of that. Still, she's scared in a way that she can't place, and she hates to admit that, more than anything else, because she is so used to being the brave one. She doesn't even know what it is, _why _it is that sometimes, she is so afraid that she can barely think straight, but sometimes, it feels like it's everything. The impending coup, the fear of something going wrong, the omnipresent threat that she might lose anybody in the fight…and, of course, the fear of the future; about what's going to happen to or with her and Itachi…

Sakura can't help but wonder if Itachi feels the same anxiety as she does. He has always been the calmer counterpart to her naturally high-strung personality, and there are some times when she wants nothing more than to curl up against him and beg him to tell her that everything is going to be all right.

To distract herself, she throws herself, body and soul, into training, using the skills she had acquired during her time with the Akatsuki. It is enough of a coping mechanism until the last few days.

It had been careless of her, but Sakura had lost her perception of time. Everything blurred together into early-rising mornings, hours upon hours of intense genjutsu, ninjutsu, taijutsu, and weapons practice, not to mention the countless full rehearsals of the entire attack on Konoha that they had done. Nights were spent getting rained on during the walk back to her apartment, and every night, she and Itachi would sit on the black leather sofa together and share some food and talk about relatively innocent, unimportant things. More often than not, she would fall asleep in his arms and he would carry her back to their room, before waking up too few hours later and starting everything over again.

So it comes as a surprise when, at the end of a particularly rigorous training rehearsal, after the sun has almost completely set and everybody has left their stations and collapsed around the clearing, looking like limp, exhausted rag dolls, Naruto announces that there are three days until the coup itself.

"On the night of the autumnal equinox," he says determinedly, to all the ashen faces staring up at him. The rain has started early, today, and even though the forest's canopy provides shelter from the worst of it, stray splatters still threaten to turn the soil underneath their bodies into mud. The fat, surprisingly cold raindrops cascade onto the oh-so-green leaves first, before slowly rolling down to land on their heads and faces, chilling everybody's bodies to the bone. Naruto goes on to talk about how well prepared they are, how their skills have improved unimaginably over the past three years, and even more so over the past three weeks, and how everything is going to go off perfectly to plan.

_Meet here at six. _

One and a half hours to get to Konoha. Two hours, two and a half hours at most, for the conflict itself. And…

"I can't believe it," Tenten whispers, her voice barely audible over Jiraiya's, who is speaking now, and the steady wash of the rain. Her spine is rigid and her skin is pale, her hands trembling a little as she ceases polishing her katana, and she looks as tense and anxious as Sakura feels. "Three nights from now, we'll finally be home. It's such a strange concept, after so long, isn't it? _Home_."

Beside her, Lee squeezes her hand in silent reassurance, just as Sakura places one hand on her shoulder, and Tenten gives them both grateful smiles. "It'll be so nice," she murmurs. "It feels like everything is finally falling into place, right?"

There is a heaviness in Sakura's heart, one that she cannot place, as she echoes her hollow assent.

After it is finished, after Sakura has declined Lee, Tenten, and Gai's invitation to join them for dinner, and Naruto and Kakashi's invitation to do the same, Naruto pulls her aside for a moment. His sky-blue eyes, the brightest thing in the rain-soaked desert, are blazing with barely-restrained emotion as he flings an arm around her shoulders. "Excited?" he asks quietly. "I think you're the only one who'd understand how I feel, since you must be the same way – I can't sit still – can't even _sleep_; that's how bad it is."

The breath leaves Sakura's body in a sigh as she watches the ripple that each raindrop makes in the millions of puddles that are forming around them. "But are you ever nervous?" she finds herself asking.

Naruto looks back at her, honest confusion in his eyes. "Why should I be?"

They are silent for a few long moments, as he picks pebbles up and skips them into the stream, which threatens to overflow. "So," Naruto says, at last. "About the whole – offer…thing…"

Sakura shrugs one shoulder, unable to look at him. "It's not entirely my decision," she replies quietly, looking down at the ring that weighs down her left hand.

Naruto nods, the bitterness in the small gesture barely visible, as they begin to slowly make their way out of the forest. "I can't imagine anything else for you," he confesses, sticking his hands in his pockets.

Sakura tries to smile, but there are a few notes missing, and it comes out weaker than usual. "Yeah," she murmurs, looking up at the overcast, dark gray sky, and one raindrop lands squarely on her upturned face, trickling its cold way down her cheek, and dripping off her chin. "Sometimes I can't, either."

-

Itachi concludes his hologram-conversation with Pein a scant few moments before Sakura steps into their apartment, soaked to the skin, and he cannot determine whether the dampness on her face is from tears or from the rain. For a moment, he is unsure as to what to do – things between them have been so uncomfortably tentative in the past few weeks – but then, Sakura looks at him with an inexpressible sadness in her eyes and holds out her arms in a silent plea for an embrace, something she hasn't done for two years now, and Itachi does not think twice before pulling himself up from the sofa in one smooth movement and crossing over to her in a few paces, before wrapping her in his arms.

Sakura makes a quiet, miserable sound in the back of her throat, fisting one hand in the material of his dark, long-sleeved shirt as she leans into his chest, and Itachi holds her wordlessly, beginning to run his chakra-warmed hands up and down her back in an attempt to dry her off. He has sensed this particular breaking point coming for several days – Sakura has an incredible amount of emotional tolerance and strength, but even she has her limits, and Itachi can only suspect that she has quietly, internally been pushing them for a long time. She is scared, understandably so, and intensely ashamed of feeling that way, and gently, he guides his pink-haired kunoichi over to the sofa, lightly easing her down into a sitting position.

"Three days," Sakura whispers, turning her head to the side and trying her best to regain some semblance of strength and save some face. "I'm all right, really – it's just taking some time to sink in. We have practice for the next two days, and we have the third off to mentally prepare ourselves – we're starting in the evening, at six, and the conflict should be over by ten-thirty at most."

It is rash and foolish, the very antithesis of every aspect of his behavior, but – this is the only thing; the only major, potentially life-threatening conflict that Sakura has become embroiled in _without _him, and just as she had downright refused to stand for the idea of his facing Madara alone, even though he had tried to, Itachi cannot—

"I am coming with you."

The flat bluntness of his tone startles Sakura out of her infuriating and unwelcome spell of misery, and she looks back at Itachi sharply. There are times that she forgets that she isn't the only stubborn one in their relationship, and the evidence to the contrary is written all over his face. "_What_?" she hisses, staring at him. "I can't – _you _can't—"

"Nobody has to know," Itachi counters coolly.

The thing is that she _knows _that it's more than possible for a shinobi of his caliber to be her shadow; silently, discreetly protecting her and keeping her unquestionably safe, but… "This is something I have to do alone," Sakura responds firmly, her tone brooking no argument, even though her touch is gentle, as she reaches out and intertwines their fingers together. The words pull out her innate quiet bravery from that small, dark place it had retreated into, and its return soothes her more than can be put into words.

She is a more than capable kunoichi; nobody can attest to that more than he can, and Itachi hates the fact that he is so worried for her – that he _has _been, ever since all of this has begun.

After a few minutes of silence, Itachi twines one hand into the length of her hair again, drying it with the welcome warmth of his chakra. "Foolish girl," he murmurs softly, forcing his voice to remain steady and emotionless, even though it might threaten to be a losing battle.

Sakura fiddles with her engagement ring, twisting it and turning it absentmindedly on her finger. "I know," she replies, her voice just as quiet.

-

Sakura holds on to her calm for the next two days, but she wakes up at nine in the morning on the third, her eyes snapping open with an almost eerie alacrity.

Sakura gets everything ready, first. Her clothes. Her weapons. She reads out of her book of medical ninjutsu, reviewing hundreds of techniques that she has already memorized; that she could do in her sleep. Rupture organs, splinter bones, stop hearts. And she paces, in countless tight, concentric circles, and endless lines, from one end of the living room to another, nursing her cup of blueberry tea, staring into its depths fixedly, and hardly taking a sip of it. She's never felt this nervous and shaky in her entire life, and it's hard to think about the fact that by the end of today, nothing will ever be the same again. Sakura can't shake the feeling that a chapter of her life is closing, and it makes her feel – relieved, a little panicked, and, oh god, she _can't _think about Itachi.

He corners her about one and a half hours after she first starts agonizing, and Itachi crosses his arms, glowering at her in a way that makes Sakura wilt a little and lose her focus.

"You are going to drive yourself crazy," he informs her flatly.

"It helps!" Sakura retorts, a little bit of the old fire returning.

Itachi smirks a little, before grabbing her hand and pulling her into their bedroom. For one wild moment, Sakura is surprised, because he has never shown any inclination toward therapeutic sex before, but she should have known better – he settles into a cross-legged position on their bed, and indicates that she should do the same.

"Meditation," Itachi informs her matter-of-factly. "I know you have failed to grasp it before, but you seem to be in more need of it today than you ever have in the past. Relax; clear your mind, and stabilize your chakra."

Sakura tries her very best, placing her hands on her knees and taking a long, deep breath, for the first time in what feels like ages. The room is cool from the open window, and it smells fresh, like tea and rain.

Perhaps it is the excessive stress of the past few weeks, but the sudden quiet in the room, save for the gentle patter of the rain on the roof, does its part to relax her. Suddenly, thinking and overthinking and worrying becomes too exhausting, and for the first time in her life, despite countless hours of attempted instruction by various people, Sakura finally closes her eyes and settles her mind into a meditative state.

She isn't sure how long that lasts, but when she finally opens her eyes again, it is a little cooler, a little cloudier, and Sakura glances over at Itachi, startled. "What time is it?"

"Almost three," he murmurs, his eyes still closed. Unlike her, his subconscious does an endless amount of thinking, realizing, and self-actualizing during meditation, and Sakura can't help but notice that, despite the supposed relaxation of the entire activity, Itachi looks incredibly, surprisingly…troubled.

Even though he can't see her, she gives him a small smile, unable to bring herself to feel worried right now. Lightly, Sakura reaches out to smooth the frown lines on Itachi's forehead, and his charcoal-gray eyes flicker open, watching her intently, like he is trying to memorize every little aspect of her face.

Her hand slides down from his forehead to his cheek, absentmindedly tracing the elegant, defined line of his cheekbone. "Well, then," Sakura states softly, and in the next second, before Itachi can even blink, she is in his lap, slowly, deliberately wrapping her arms around his neck, but irrationally, he is afraid that if he touches her, holds her; now, he will never find the strength to let go. She kisses his cheek, still, and she smells of her familiar scent of fresh strawberries and looks so perversely untroubled that it—

Itachi kisses her so hard, so suddenly and almost desperately that it takes Sakura's breath away, his hands twisting in her hair and pulling her down onto the bed, hard. His touch bruises her wrists and lips, and probably other places that she will feel after a few hours, and every touch, every kiss, every slight movement, feels like he is trying to say something that he could never articulate verbally. Sakura wants to ask what he is so afraid of – not like he would ever admit to such a thing, anyway – but Itachi is hardly giving her the time or space to breathe, let alone think or speak coherently. The intensity scares Sakura a little, but it is a welcome distraction from what is to come.

Afterward, they lie in bed silently, Sakura curled up against Itachi's chest and battling with what to say, if anything, as he brushes her hair out, stroking the tension out of her slender shoulders. A few times, it almost sounds as if he starts to speak, but then stops abruptly.

When Sakura stops to think about it, she and Itachi have come so far in the past three years that it's staggering – and maybe that's why this so hard for both of them.

"You should get ready," Itachi tells her, at last, his voice so quiet that it is barely audible over the crash of thunder that suddenly punctuates the still evening air.

Sakura nods distantly, almost feeling her entire body going into autopilot. "Yeah."

The warm water of the shower soothes her from the inside out, and Sakura ends up reaching for Itachi's pine and spearmint shower gel, instead – maybe it is irrational of her, but it is the closest she will come to having him with her, on this particular night, when she might need both of their strength to get through this.

Sakura gets dressed with her back to the mirror. She combs out her long hair and pulls it into a high ponytail, and pulls on a pair of sleek, fitted black pants, identical to Tenten's, which the two of them had bought at a shinobi outfitting store two days ago, and stuffs the fabric, from the knee down, into her boots. Her concealed weapons go into the numerous pockets, as well as a couple of specialized medical scrolls, just in case. Then, she slides on her gloves and straps on the metal chakra-enhanced wrist-to-elbow arm guards – ever the romantic; Itachi had given them to her for her birthday – before turning her attention to the neatly folded clothes waiting for her on the bathroom counter.

Sakura hasn't touched these particular items of clothing since the night of her sixteenth birthday, when Shikamaru had sent them to her. Now, her touch is reverent as she unfolds the olive-green turtleneck and matching flak jounin vest that had once belonged to Tsunade, and try as she might, the pink-haired kunoichi can't keep her fingers from trembling a little.

The remnants of the previous owner's chakra signature – one as familiar to Sakura as her own – still linger in the expensive fabric. These had been custom-made for Tsunade, commissioned by her grandfather, the First Hokage.

Tsunade had made jounin at eighteen, the same age that Sakura is now, and the turtleneck and green flak vest fits Sakura like a glove. Her mentor had wanted to give these to her after _her _own jounin exams, but…

Sakura's hands shake a little as she does up the last fastening on the flak vest, but the residual sparks of Tsunade's chakra calm her; give her some of the other woman's prodigious strength and courage, melding with her considerable reserves of the same, and it produces a surge of adrenaline and confidence that enables Sakura to stand up a little straighter, turning around to face her reflection fearlessly.

For the briefest of moments, she doesn't recognize the person that she sees in the mirror, and before she can catch herself, Sakura reaches out, touching the glass surface almost wistfully.

Three years ago, she had been a girl – an overly-emotional, sometimes stupid girl, who had been forced to run away, because she was too scared and powerless to do otherwise.

Now, she has grown into a kunoichi. A _true _kunoichi – the woman in the mirror is worthy of wearing the clothes of her legendary namesake, and that, more than anything else, fills Sakura with an incredible, inexpressible pride.

Kakashi had suggested the black paint as a way to easily prevent their forces from becoming confused with Danzou's, and Sakura paints the thick black stripes underneath her eyes with an unshaking hand, feeling them dry upon contact with her skin.

Maybe it had been the mediation. The hot shower. Itachi. The psychological effect of wearing Tsunade's clothes. But now, Sakura feels no fear. This conflict has been a long time coming, and tonight, she will fight – and she will win.

By the time she steps out of the bathroom, she has forty-five minutes until they are due to meet, and Itachi is once again dressed in his customary dark pants, long-sleeved black shirt, and maybe it is just a security thing, for him, but he has pulled on the Akatsuki cloak over it, for the first time in weeks.

For a moment, he looks at her like he doesn't recognize her, but then they both step toward each other at the same time. Sakura opens her mouth to speak, but Itachi shakes his head a fraction of an inch as he places one hand to her face, his fingertips stroking the curve of her jaw gently as his thumb caresses the line of her cheekbone. She can't read the expression in his eyes, but his touch is so surprisingly tender that she closes her eyes momentarily, allowing herself the brief luxury of standing up on the tips of her toes and leaning into it, as she reaches up to curl her fingers lightly around his wrist, feeling his pulse strong beneath her fingers.

"I am so proud of you."

The quiet words had worked their way free of his throat without his consent, and Sakura's eyes fly open, only to find that Itachi looks as startled as she feels. But she keeps silent, giving him a chance to speak, and for once, he is the one to reach out and draw her into his arms, holding her close against his chest, stroking her back gently. She literally feels him struggle with the words, and then Itachi sighs almost inaudibly, his grip tightening around her for the briefest of moments. "…I love you, Sakura." _Please never forget that—_

Maybe it is just because he says it so much less than she does, but even though she _knows _it, Sakura's throat tightens a little at the four softly-spoken words, and she holds on to him a little tighter. "Yeah," she whispers. "Thank you, Itachi. For…everything."

The words sound too much like a farewell – a _real _farewell – for both of their comfort, and Itachi and Sakura withdraw for a moment, looking away a little awkwardly.

"I'll send you one of my slug summons to tell you when it's over," Sakura attempts a carefree smile. "And if you don't mind meeting me near the outskirts of the village…"

Itachi only nods, still looking somewhat like he doesn't trust himself to speak.

She has gone out on her own so many times before, but leaving him has never been so hard.

Sakura isn't sure which one of them reaches for each other first, but then her gloved fingers are twined in the ponytail at the nape of Itachi's neck, with his hands pressed against her back as they kiss in a way that tastes too much of desperation and loss and last, last, _last_—

Even though Sakura feels a little vile about doing so, she does what is easiest for her – and the moment that Itachi withdraws a fraction of an inch, she reaches up, stroking the back of her knuckles against his face almost wistfully, and before he even has time to blink, she is gone.

-

The impending storm turns the sky a strange shade of purple, the threat of rain chilling the air, but Naruto's voice, commanding and impressive, is almost enough to drown out the distant claps of thunder.

Sixty shadows in the forest; all assorted into regimental lines by individual squad, exceedingly well camouflaged in their jounin uniforms and black war stripes, and all of their faces reflecting a grim sense of purpose. At one sharp movement of Naruto's arm, they turn west in one smooth movement, facing Konoha, and try as she might, Sakura cannot hide the soft, subtle tremor that runs through her body underneath the cover protected by her armor.

Beside her, Tenten squeezes her hand. "Don't worry, Sakura-chan," she whispers, somehow managing to have enough bravery for both of them, even now. "We're all in this together – and we'll protect each other until our last breaths."

Sakura manages to nod resolutely, keeping her eyes trained on Naruto, for her own sake.

A sharp gust of wind sends the ties on his forehead protector fluttering wildly, but he hardly even moves in acknowledgement, his sky-blue eyes fixed determinedly on the road ahead.

"Begin."

-

_One Hour Later_

-

The race to Konoha had taken a shorter time than anticipated, perhaps due to the power of sheer adrenaline alone. They have all split up into their individual squads, scattered into the forest bordering Konoha on all four sides, and Sakura keeps her eyes trained on the area of the forest in front of the west gate, feeling the pounding of her heart echo in her ears. She knows that there are squads of their forces all around, but for this stage in the operation, everybody is concealed by genjutsu, and it is making Sakura's nerves stand on edge. Staring into her former home like this is making her heart beat even faster, but this is no time to get sentimental.

Shizune's breath is a little uneven, and knowing that the older kunoichi is probably sick with worry over Genma, Sakura spares a moment to place a comforting hand on her shoulder, giving her the closest thing to a smile she can manage at the moment.

Shizune turns a fraction of an inch, smiling gratefully as well, and then the two kunoichi immediately resume their intent perusal of the east gate's perimeter.

There is a squad of five Root members on patrol, standing on the very edge of genjutsu range, and, knowing that Kurenai and the other genjutsu specialists are doing this as well, on the south and north gates, Sakura trains her unblinking gaze on the faint, dark shadows of the pacing squad members.

Shizune squeezes her arm briefly, letting her know that it is time, and in the same second, Sakura concentrates her chakra as rapidly and precisely as she can, in perfect coordination with the kunoichi beside her.

The five Root members crumple like marionettes whose strings have been cut – they will be unconscious for the next two days, which gives Naruto and Jiraiya enough time to sort out what to do with them. Sakura is momentarily stunned at her own success, enough so that she almost misses seeing the distant silhouettes of ten more Root members, on the north and south gates respectively, fall, just as silently.

She and Shizune, and the rest of the squads, approach the unguarded gates. Upon the signal – the signal to the clan members within Konoha that it is time to rise up, and the signal to the forces _outside _Konoha that it time to move in – they will leap right over them and into the village below, where there are undoubtedly more Root patrols and shinobi loyal to Danzou…

_One. Two._

Shizune is biting her lip so hard that it is danger of splitting.

_Three._

Sakura's breath catches in her throat involuntarily, and in the same second, a veritable wall of fire, bigger than anything she has ever seen in her life, _monstrous, _with red-and-orange flames that seem to lick the dark sky itself, crashes through the west gate of Konoha. The wood and metal of the gate gives in with a million sickening crunches, collapsing into itself, and—

The fire will be contained by one of Raidou's excellent water jutsu, once the signal has been up long enough, but, feeling her heart leap into her throat in a feeling that has nothing to do with the usual side effects of the transportation jutsu, Sakura is down – into Konoha, for the first time in years, standing inside the west gate. For a moment, the flames and sudden screams that echo through the air, combined with the darkness of the streets, are more than a little bit disorienting, but then, the incredibly loud bark of a dog – a dog unlike anything she has seen or heard for the past three years – rents the air, and Sakura spins around in a blur of movement, narrowly avoiding being trampled by an Inuzuka wolf-dog the size of a large horse – and the purple-haired kunoichi riding on its back.

"Sorry about that, Sakura-chan!" Tsume Inuzuka, the head of the clan, shouts, above the rest of the chaos, and she looks positively giddy. "Fine night for it, hm? The Root headquarters are three streets over to the right from here, if you're looking to lure those bastards out of their hiding spots – now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to exact some personal retribution."

Tsume and Kuromaru are off in a blur of purple and gray fur, but it had been enough of a wake-up call, and without stopping once to think about it, Sakura is running as fast as she can, toward the location that Tsume had indicated, her mind whirring just as quickly. So the Inuzuka had broken out already – that means that the rest of the clans should be out, too, and they will all secure the perimeter of the village, before working inward, to Hokage Tower—

"Is that one of ours, Iesada?"

"No, you idiot – look at that hair! Get her, _now_!"

The voices seem to have erupted out of nowhere, and it is pure speed that enables Sakura to evade the high-speed wind jutsu that would have knocked her fifty feet, before slamming her against the stone building of the Root headquarters.

The darkness moves and shifts, and two Root members very nearly fly out of the shadows like faceless demons, katanas at the ready, and by the time the first one lunges at her, with speed so incredibly staggering that it defies logic, Sakura has already formed the requisite hand seals, and an identical high-speed wind jutsu sends _him _flying back an even greater distance, before smacking against a faraway wall with a sickening crunch and crumpling to the ground.

The other Root member makes a sound that is almost a snarl as he charges her, and avoiding the blade of the katana by a hairsbreadth, Sakura twists to the side and punches as hard as she can, and his neck breaks with an audible snap.

Unable to look back or spare even another second – who knows how many of more of them need to be neutralized – Sakura turns to face the Root building.

_Lure them out of their hiding places, indeed._

She's never successfully done this before, but at the same time, she's never been so very…motivated.

Sakura performs the requisite ten hand seals as fast as she possibly can, centering her chakra just as Itachi had spent so many hours teaching her how to, and just like that, there is an incredible, burning pressure building inside of her, starting at the bottom of her ribcage and fighting its way up with steady, inexorable force, making her feel like she is a cat who needs to cough up a hairball.

It is burning her throat, now, raw agony pervading every one of her senses, and startled beyond belief, Sakura screams, and—

A stream of fire erupts from her mouth, engulfing the Root headquarters and throwing countless sparks into the air, announcing the site of the attack, and suddenly, the night is alive with agonized screams and the overwhelming, horrid scent of charring flesh.

"Headquarters _down_!"

"Get over there, now!"

Sakura stares, shocked, at the spectacle, but then there is a hand, large and unfamiliar, hard on her shoulder, and she turns in one liquid movement, hand ready to punch before she even sees who it is, but Shikamaru actually laughs, stepping backward, out of her range. "Didn't mean to scare you, Sakura – but damn it, kunoichi, that deserved a compliment; you do it like an Uchiha, troublesome bastards though they are. Now, _run_! Ino would never forgive me if I let you die on her watch—"

Before Sakura can even protest, Shikamaru is dragging her down one of the concealed side streets. Tsume had been right – the main streets are suddenly alive with Root members, sprinting toward their ruined headquarters in a futile attempt to control the damage and rescue their trapped comrades.

From their spot, concealed in the shadows behind a Dumpster, Shikamaru angles his head, giving her a somewhat feral grin. "You thinking what I am?"

Sakura nods grimly, training her eyes on the street. "I'm ready when you are."

In the next second, despite the darkness of the night, a pitch-black shadow, more menacing than the rest, steals across the stretch of street, trapping the Root members where they stand, faces frozen into a tableau of mingled rage and horror.

Tiger, ox, rabbit, and with those simple hand seals, the ten of them drop to the floor, staring up at the sky with unseeing eyes.

Sakura stumbles out of their shelter, trying her best to avoid looking at the bodies, as she extends a hand to help Shikamaru out, as well.

"That was surprisingly flawless," Shikamaru comments, his voice terse, as he drops his cigarette on the floor and stamps it out. "Stick with me, Sakura – I'll get us over to Hokage Tower, and we'll take out as many on the way as we can. That _is _the plan, right?"

"Right," Sakura replies tersely, stopping for the briefest of moments in order to cast a long-range genjutsu on one of the Root members racing along the rooftops; the man falls flat on his face, as if he had merely tripped.

Either she has never fully appreciated the distance between the outskirts of west Konoha to the center before, or the fighting is just making everything seem so much worse. In order to avoid head-on engagement with Root members, Shikamaru and Sakura stick to the side streets and the alleys, taking out as many people as they can in the limited cover provided by these darkest shadows.

It is very nearly a sensory overload – screams, the clamor of hundreds of voices, the impossibly amplified, frantic barking of dogs, the clash of weapon against weapon; steel against steel, and the constant, distinctive, and indescribable roar of destructive ninjutsu like the Rasengan pierces the air continuously, echoed by the ominous, steady rumbles of thunder. Lightning cuts the sky in half every few minutes, and the once-dark sky is illuminated by the glow of the still-raging fires at the Root headquarters and at the west gate.

There is no way to tell anybody apart, save for the colors of distinctive ninjutsu or the flash of a familiar hair color or style. There are unearthly flashes of pale blue fire in front of the Academy – they're getting closer – faced off against a team of five white-masked Root shinobi, but as Sakura makes to stop and turn back to help them, Shikamaru gives her hand a sharp tug. "Don't worry – Neji and Hinata can definitely handle themselves."

Upon further observation, the two figures become clear, and a thrill of elation goes down Sakura's spine as, in less time than it takes her to blink, Neji immobilizes the last standing Root member, in order for Hinata to perform the finishing strike. Before she can call out to them, the two Hyuuga are sprinting down the dark road, heading for the next visible patrol of Root members.

Shikamaru spares a moment to shake his head in admiration, but then he is pulling her along again. "No time to spare," he explains, sounding slightly out of breath. "You've seen it as much as I have—"

"Most of Root in the outskirts of Konoha are down," Sakura gasps, and out of the corner of her eye, she sees Tenten and another Root captain, engaged in the most complex and intricate swordplay that she has ever seen – while both of them are precariously balanced on the top of the Interrogations and Questioning department building.

In the next second, Tenten lunges forward, under the captain's guard, and stabs him clean through the heart, and Sakura can't help but grin and keep running. "The rest of them must have decided to cut their losses and concentrate around Hokage Tower, then—"

"—And if you think that this is a war zone," Shikamaru completes grimly, narrowly avoiding tripping over the lifeless body of one of the enemy (which earns the fallen Root member a kick and a mutter of "troublesome bastard.") "You haven't seen anything yet."

"You've been—"

"I came from there; Ino sent me to find you," he replies immediately, giving her hand a squeeze. "Now, Sakura, listen," Shikamaru says rapidly. "I have to meet Chouji and Ino; she can't do her technique properly without me to guard her body, and she promised to help you and Naruto hunt down Danzou, because as of now, we have no idea where that troublesome ass is. Jiraiya and some of his people tried fighting their way in, but there are a few of the Root elite that forced them back out—"

The specter of Hokage Tower, across the wide main street from her, rises out of the darkness as she and Shikamaru stumble out of the alleyway, and Sakura's heart can't help but skip a beat. Shikamaru had been right – the destruction in the rest of Konoha looks tame compared to this. The smaller buildings and plants and little garden in front of the tower have been smashed, reduced to nothing more than rubble and ashes. Ninjutsu are flying more than anything else here; the power of it has cracked the earth itself in several places, leaving treacherous faultlines and chasms, and to make things worse, somebody's water jutsu has flooded parts of the street as well.

"Go!" Sakura orders Shikamaru, pulling him back against the shattered remnants of a wall, in one sharp movement, and it is the only thing that saves his head from being blown off by a stray wind-blade jutsu.

Shikamaru looks around wildly, and they have to duck again, falling to the floor and taking cover behind the rubble, in order to escape a flying boulder – Earth-type jutsu; one of Kotetsu's favorites – that had been sent in retaliation. "On second thought," Shikamaru manages, his face half-covered in soot. "I can't leave you alone here, it's insane—"

"I can handle myself, Shikamaru," Sakura says through gritted teeth, and in the next second, she falls to her knees, letting her fist collide with the ground – and, fifteen feet away, a team of Root members engaged in combat with Izumo, Kotetsu, and Genma, all disappear into the resulting sixty-foot crater, their screams echoing in the air for the briefest of moments before Genma pounces forward and executes a Katon straight into the depths of the crater.

Sakura grabs Shikamaru by the arm, taking the momentary lull in their side of the battle as grounds to forcibly haul him to his feet. "See? Go help Ino – she needs you more than I do – and for the kami's sake, keep her safe!"

Shikamaru nods grimly, and then he is off, as fast as a shot, heading toward the opposite side of the tower.

That orange fire lights up the east side of the battlegrounds once again, and Sakura turns toward it instinctively – Naruto – and begins to run, keeping a careful eye out for the chasms that threaten to swallow her up. There are people everywhere; crushes of bodies locked in intense, close combat – Shino and his father, directing their bugs to swarm the bodies of the Root members opposite them; Kurenai spinning around wildly, locking every enemy she can see in an undoubtedly vicious genjutsu, Lee; nothing more than a blur of green sending broken bodies flying in every direction; Kakashi, unleashing the Sharingan on any Root shinobi that dares to get too close – and countless others. Hanabi Hyuuga is facing three Root members on her own, and behind the unaware girl creeps one more, katana at the ready, a mere few inches away from striking into her unprotected back—

Sakura's punch sends him flying, his ribs pulverized and liquefied upon impact, and he is dead before he hits the ground – thirty feet later.

"Thank you, Sakura-san!" Hanabi shouts, her eyes glowing with gratitude, as she finishes off the remaining three Root members in three separate strikes.

"Neji and Hinata are on the north side!" Sakura yells in response, pulling the girl out of the way of a stray jutsu – even from here, she can see the telltale sparks of the Hyuuga cousins' Juuken. "Stick with them, all right?"

Hanabi nods her assent, before running off, ducking and weaving agilely through the crowd on her way to a safer position.

For her part, Sakura throws a stumbling Root member out of her way, using the chakra in her hands to paralyze as she does so, and he sinks to a boneless heap on the floor. She hops over him and keeps running, punching six more enemy forces into oblivion as she does so, until—

Sakura gasps as she feels her shoulder nearly wrenched backwards, out of the socket, and she is forcibly spun around, her face an inch away from the white porcelain mask of a Root member who wears a captain's red slash of paint across his forehead. Ninjutsu is her first instinct, but then the katana is cold at the tip of her throat, the metal point pressing into her neck, and Sakura can feel the bead of blood appearing at the tiny cut.

"Give me a reason, kunoichi," he sneers.

She can deal with a little pain, and Sakura lifts her hand, gritting her teeth and ready to punch him right in the face and make that pretty porcelain shatter in his eyes, but then—

The sudden, shrill, ear-splitting cacophony of the shriek of a thousand birds splits the air, and then Sakura can see nothing but blinding blue light, and before she even realizes what she is doing, the pink-haired kunoichi punches him right into the light – right into the path of—

One thousand birds – _one thousand birds ­_– _Chidori_—

It's a hallucination or a delusion or some kind of horrible vision brought on by the stress of the situation, but then his hands are on her shoulders, long-fingered and calloused and as real as life, his crimson eyes staring down into hers—

"_Sasuke_?" Sakura hisses, backing away on instinct, and unsure whether she is supposed to be attacking him or not. She hasn't seen him in one and a half years, not since their impromptu run-in in Rain, but the young man in front of her is dressed in the same regalia as the rest of their forces, his dark hair chopped to his shoulders once again and tied into a ponytail, and now, he looks like nobody more than the old pictures of his deceased father, but still, it is unmistakable. "What are you – what are you _doing _here?"

There is a blur of red and violet on either sides of her, and Suigetsu Hoizuki, the shark-boy who looks uncannily similar to Kisame, neatly beheads a Root member straggling behind his comrades, while Karin dispatches another one neatly with a thrown kunai that goes right through his throat. They are dressed in jounin uniforms as well, and Karin smirks, nudging her glasses up her nose with her free hand. "What does it look like?" she asks flippantly. "We're joining the party, of course – that huge fire blazing at the west gate was enough of an invitation. You can see it for miles."

"Shit, Karin, this is no time for small talk," Suigetsu growls, grabbing Karin by the arm and pulling her along. "Juugo's got himself into some trouble down over there; we don't want his curse seal coming out – now, let's go—"

Before Sakura's stunned eyes, the two of them are gone, fighting their way through the crowd; Karin's long red hair flaming like a beacon behind her, and Sasuke's hand is vicelike around Sakura's. "I'm here for Danzou," he growls, backing her against a corner, and Sakura can see the murderous intent in his eyes. "I was wrong – _he's _the reason why…my family; my clan – _he's _the one who made Itachi—"

Sakura smiles grimly, pushing him out of her way, and this time, she is the one who pulls him through the chaos, toward Naruto. No matter what has happened between them; between their team, in the past – tonight, they are all too united in this cause. "Say no more."

They fight their way through the crowd with increasingly reckless abandon. Sakura sends anybody in those telltale porcelain masks flying with lethal, Tsunade-inherited punches, while Sasuke simply cuts them down with his katana. It seems like it takes an incredibly short time for them to cross over, and before long, they are in the thick of the fight; right outside of the entrance to Hokage Tower.

Somebody had locked it from the inside, and from the looks of it, somebody else had used a Katon to blast right through the ornate doors. Something has gone wrong, structurally, and _something _has caved in; thick layers of debris and wreckage obstruct the pathway into the building.

_But where's Danzou? _Sakura thinks to herself frantically, even while throwing yet another one of Danzou's personal guards into the path of Sasuke's Chidori.

The toe of her boot catches on the edge of a rock, and Sakura stumbles momentarily, but even before she can steady herself, somebody grabs her from behind, pulling her around to face him. Naruto looks worse for wear than she does, but her sharp green eyes catalogue him immediately, finding no injuries – save for minor katana scratches – whatsoever.

Naruto's eyes widen, as he releases her as if burned, before stepping backward, the conflict raging around them momentarily forgotten. "_Sasuke_?" he rasps hoarsely, his gaze fixed on the third member of their once-team.

It almost looks like Naruto is going to faint, and Sakura grabs his arm rapidly. "Naruto, it's okay, he's with—"

"I'm on your side," Sasuke interrupts grimly, sheathing his katana for a moment, as he fixes his gaze squarely on Naruto. "Lead me to Danzou…Seventh Hokage."

Some kind of understanding beyond Sakura's comprehension passes between Naruto and Sasuke in those brief moments. Naruto nods resolutely, and even though he tries to suppress it, a smile spreads over his face, as slowly and surely as the breaking of dawn. "Let's go."

"Wait, Naruto," Sakura asks desperately, and she has to fling an arm up to cover her face, because, just like that, the storm finally breaks, and the rain begins to pour down on all of them, flooding the streets even further. "Where _is _Danzou? We need to find Ino, Shikamaru, and Chouji, because I guess Ino's been using her interrogation jutsu on Root members and guards to find out where Danzou is."

"Right," Naruto replies tersely, and he jerks his head over to the right. "They should be somewhere over there—"

The fighting seems to have escalated in viciousness and ferocity with the breaking of the storm, and Naruto curses steadily as he uses the Rasengan to blast Root members out of their path, followed closely by Sakura and Sasuke.

"Sakura! Over here!"

The pounding rain blurs her vision, but Sakura turns sharply, and then there is Shikamaru, on the far side of the battle area, waving at her frantically – with Ino's limp, motionless body cradled in his arms.

Sakura's heart stops for a moment, as she abruptly abandons Naruto and Sasuke in order attempt making her way over to Shikamaru.

_Not Ino, please, not Ino—_

Ino sits up dazedly, the aftereffects of the Shitenshin wearing off on her, and the first thing she does is reach for the long, deep cut on her upper arm, the red of her blood oozing through her fingers.

Sakura stops dead, so that Naruto and Sasuke collide with her.

"Ino!" she yells, quite beside herself. "Ino, don't worry – hold on, I'm coming!"

Shikamaru hastily pulls a roll of bandages out of his pocket, but Ino pushes him away impatiently, drawing one medical chakra-coated hand over the cut, and it seals as it goes.

"Sakura, don't! It's nothing! He's _on the roof of the tower, _Sakura, now _go_!"

Ino's voice, though she is screaming, is barely audible over the clamor of the battle and the roar of the rain and incessant rumbles of thunder, and it takes a moment for the words to register.

It only takes a few minutes for the three of them to sprint to the entrance of Hokage Tower, and, looking like a man possessed, Sasuke immediately begins grabbing chunks of debris and physically flinging them away.

"There has got to be a better way," Naruto pants, as he throws himself into a similar effort.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Sakura shakes her head pityingly, before reaching forward and grabbing Sasuke and Naruto by the collars, dragging them backward.

"Stand back, boys," she announces grimly, lifting her right hand and curling it into a fist.

The resulting explosion, as the mountain of wreckage is pulverized to a pile of nothing more than dust and dirt, actually stills the entire battle for more than a few moments.

"Do you have any idea how to get to the roof?" Naruto asks desperately, as the three of them make their way into the tower and race up the burnt, blackening and decidedly unstable spiral staircase as fast as they can. The power is out, and everything is pitch-black, so that only the occasional blade of lightning lights the once-familiar hallways.

"Not in the least," Sakura replies despairingly. "Kotetsu once mentioned that there was a secret trapdoor with a staircase that led up to the roof, just in case of an emergency, in one of the conference rooms – but, _oh, _he didn't say which one and there have to be at least six of them on this floor alone—"

"Let's just look for any shut, locked doors that have guards posted in front of them," Sasuke interjects darkly.

It isn't the best plan – Sakura can think of only one reason why Danzou would be on the roof, and they _have _to get up there before he finishes what he is there to do – but it is the best they have, and they search one and a half floors before finding one that fits this description.

By this time, Sakura's heart is pounding so hard that it is making her lightheaded, and Naruto and Sasuke look frighteningly desperate.

Sasuke actually throws the weight of his body against the door as he tries the knob, only to find it firmly locked. "Naruto, Sakura – this might be it—"

A man wearing the black uniform and blank white porcelain mask of Root appears out of nowhere, catching Sasuke's arm and twisting it backward, before throwing him against the opposite wall with frightening speed, and Naruto stiffens beside her, but Sakura is the one who reaches out first, grabbing the Root guard by the collar and placing the point of her kunai to his heart in one smooth movement.

"He's in there, isn't he," Sakura hisses, her eyes locking with his. "Either you can let us in without a fight, or I _will _kill you."

He moves – but only to reach up and remove his mask, letting it drop to the floor and shatter there.

"I thought I'd never see you again, Ugly," Sai comments casually, seemingly unfazed by the way Sasuke is glowering at him, and how Naruto and Sakura take large steps backward, staring at him as if they've just seen a ghost. "What took you so long? I figured that you and the Dickless Wonder over here would be desperate to have the honor of getting rid of _Danzou-sama_, so I've just been keeping everybody else away—"

Sai unlocks the door and swings it open, and Sakura throws her arms around his shoulders, hugging her long-lost teammate tightly. Root's 're-education' camps, which Sai had been sent to after he refused to pledge allegiance to Danzou immediately after the coup, were notorious for their extremely high mortality rates. "I never thought I'd be so happy to see you, you idiot," she manages, her throat nearly closing over.

Sai pats her on the back a little bit awkwardly. "There, there, Ugly. It's all right now—"

"—Or, it _will _be, as soon as we kill Danzou," Naruto grins, exhilarated, as he scans the room for the trapdoor. "Where is it, Sai?"

Sai gestures to the far side of the room; the one covered most deeply in shadows and farthest away from the window. "One of you will have to dispel the genjutsu, and then the staircase should appear – it's a long climb, but you'll get there in time."

Sakura throws him a last, grateful look as she, Sasuke, and Naruto shoulder their way into the room. Sasuke dispels the genjutsu before she can, and then a narrow, frail-looking wooden staircase appears out of seemingly nowhere, leading as far up as Sakura can see.

The ascension; this last roadblock, is nothing less than utterly frantic. "Oh, kami, I hope he hasn't—" Sakura begins, before closing her mouth abruptly – she doesn't dare to say it.

"He better not have," Naruto growls, his grip nearly fracturing the wooden banister. "I owe Tsunade – I owe _Konoha _– this."

Sasuke snorts humorlessly. "Yeah – if you get to him first."

Naruto looks outraged, and he quickens his pace. "I'll be damned if _you_—"

"You're both wrong," Sakura retorts, easily outstripping both of them, and she is the one who punches the door at the end of the staircase open. "I will."

For a few moments, it is utterly disorienting. The roof of this tower is the highest point in all of Konoha, save for Hokage Mountain, and from here, they are perilously close to the lightning – and the first to come into contact with the sheets of ice-cold rain. They can see everything – the battle going on below; the fires at the Root headquarters and the west gate—

The man standing at the far edge of the tower, looking down at all the destruction, and holding the treacherously sharp katana, in a white-knuckled fist that shakes slightly, as he begins to lift it, awkwardly attempting to angle it toward his own heart.

"_No_!" Naruto and Sasuke scream as one, the raw pain and rage in their voices mingling together, as they begin to run forward.

Naruto ignites the Rasengan and Sasuke's right fist crackles with the power of the Chidori, but they will never make it in time.

Sakura has never thought so fast in her life, but she focuses her chakra with all the desperation she can muster, training it toward Danzou, the engineer of all this; the reason for so many people's suffering – for the destruction of Konoha; for the cruel, needless murder of the Uchiha clan; for Itachi and Sasuke's personal torment; for killing Tsunade, the greatest kunoichi that the world had ever seen, in such a despicable, cowardly manner—

Tsunade…not only the world's greatest kunoichi, but Sakura's own second mother. The woman who had taught her everything that she knows now. The woman who had offered her, a mediocre young genin, the opportunity to grow into a true kunoichi. The woman who was a compulsive alcoholic and gambler; with a mercurial temper and an occasional flair for the dramatic…but who, at the same time, was one of the most outstanding, caring, compassionate, dedicated, and devoted shinobi in the history of Konoha.

The second that Danzou begins to turn fractionally toward Sasuke and Naruto, the katana on the verge of piercing his skin, is the second that Sakura's jutsu takes action.

The utter paralysis technique. It had been one of the last things Tsunade had taught her, before…

Naruto's Rasengan and Sasuke's Chidori strike Danzou at the exact same moment, incinerating his body in less than a second, and sending it flying off the roof.

For a few moments, save for the thunder and rain, there is complete silence on the roof, as Naruto and Sasuke turn and face her wordlessly.

"You…" Naruto states uncertainly, and the rain falls on his face in a way that makes him look like he is crying.

He is the first to take the few steps back to her, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her tightly, and Sakura hugs him back, burying her head in his shoulder, and too overwhelmed to speak or even think.

Danzou is dead – Tsunade and the Uchiha Clan and kami knows how many others have been avenged, but this isn't going to make them come back, and that knowledge makes tears well up in Sakura's eyes.

Then, surprisingly, there is somebody else as well – Sasuke's hands, resting firmly on her shoulders for a moment before he embraces her as well. "Thank you," Sasuke murmurs, the words so soft that they are nearly drowned out by the rain.

Naruto has rightfully earned his position as the Seventh Hokage. Sasuke has finally, truly, avenged his clan. And she – well, she had helped them, and that is enough.

The moment of peace is abruptly shattered when the door bangs open, and Kakashi stumbles onto the roof, looking rather wild-eyed, and with his mask having been ripped off at some point during the conflict. "No casualties on our side. _No casualties_, and Neji and Hiashi Hyuuga are running around making statements about divine right and destiny, and a few seconds later, Jiraiya and I saw the Rasengan up here, and something that I originally thought could have been the Chi—but that doesn't matter; I must have been mistaken – is it true?" he demands, and all the color drains from his face as Sasuke slowly turns around, meeting his ex-sensei's gaze evenly.

Naruto grins, flinging his arms around Sakura and Sasuke's shoulders, but the Uchiha is the first to speak, shoving his hands into his pockets and trying his best to look bored. "I'm here on peaceful terms and not destroying Konoha, the three of us just executed Danzou, and the dobe is now the official Seventh Hokage. Yes. It's true."

No casualties – the words stun Sakura; it is supposed to be statistically impossible; utterly unheard-of, for there to be _no _casualties whatsoever in a fight of this scale. She had refused to allow herself to think about or consider the idea of losing one of her precious comrades tonight, but as horrible as it sounds, some detached part of her had already begun resigning itself to that fact.

Divine right. Destiny. They are words and ideas she has only ever contemplated in passing, but now…well, it seems like there can be no other possibility.

This knowledge, along with the sudden release of tension and adrenaline brought about by Sasuke's deadpan statement, and the almost overwhelming realization that they have _won_; that all of their efforts for so long have paid off – that, on top of everything else and inexplicably enough, they are _together _again, makes for a heady, dizzying elixir.

Naruto starts laughing first, and Sakura joins in, and even Sasuke cracks what might possibly be a shadow of a smile, while Kakashi just stares at them, utterly nonplussed.

"You might want to make a formal announcement," Naruto manages, when he is able.

Kakashi looks torn between exasperation, confusion, and pride, and in the end, he bows to Naruto, a little more deeply than etiquette dictates. "Yes, Hokage-sama," he replies dutifully, before backing away and beginning to make his way down the staircase.

Sakura blinks once, momentarily thrown by the surrealistic quality of it – that, finally, after so many long years, Naruto is finally being addressed by the title that he has dreamed of, fought for, and now, truly earned.

"Kami," Sasuke pronounces, looking deeply disgusted, and not at all affected by the emotional significance of the moment. "Dobe – Naruto – _Hokage-sama, _are you _crying_?"

"No," Naruto lies valiantly, but he is blinking more than is necessary, as he reaches out and grips Sakura's hand tightly, and the sight and feeling makes the pink-haired kunoichi's vision blur again – with tears of pride, this time.

Without the need for further discourse and as if by mutual agreement, Team Seven sits down on the far edge of the roof, their feet dangling into empty space. The rain has dulled to a drizzle, now, the thunder and lightning having receded entirely. It is incredibly cold on the roof, but with Naruto on one side of her and Sasuke on the other, their arms brushing together, Sakura feels so incredibly secure and complete and _right _that it is nearly overwhelming.

All of them are too inextricably caught up in their own separate thoughts to even entertain the idea of conversation, but, predictably enough, Naruto is the one to break the silence.

"So," he comments, sounding like he is trying – and failing – to be casual. "Sasuke…now that you've finished doing all of your avenger stuff, are you—"

Naruto trails off abruptly, and Sakura glances at Sasuke out of the corner of her eye. He is gazing down at the village, wearing a contemplative expression that wouldn't have looked out of place on Itachi's face.

"I don't have anything else to do," Sasuke admits gruffly. "I don't really have…a purpose…any longer, I suppose, so – there would be no logic in—"

"Continuing to be an antisocial, miserable nomad who rejects all offers of friendship, support, and bonds in favor of walking his own bitter, self-destructive path?" Sakura asks sweetly, albeit through gritted teeth.

Sasuke moodily throws a stray pebble off the roof. "Yes. That."

Sakura doesn't feel bad about throwing her arms around his shoulders and giving him a brief hug, while Naruto looks similarly ecstatic. "This is so amazing," he says with feeling, gazing toward Hokage Mountain, and his voice catches in his throat for a moment. "I always knew that I would make it here, but – having _both _of you here, with me; now and in all the time to come…it makes everything so much better. I never imagined that it would all work out like this."

Sakura squeezes his hand, refusing to let herself dwell on the 'having _both _of you here' comment. Sasuke actually pats Naruto on the shoulder a little awkwardly, and she can't help but smile. "We've come so far," Sakura murmurs, still almost unable to wrap her mind around the magnitude of the events that have come to pass in the past few hours.

The breath leaves Naruto's body in a long sigh, another smile touching his face. "I think Neji was right on this one," he comments, after a while. "Destiny."

Sakura echoes the word softly, and for the first time in years, she thinks about the long-term effects of the coup – of how, from something as terrible and nightmarish as Danzou's takeover, the murder of Tsunade, the forced separation of everybody she knew and loved…something good was born; a ray of sunlight in the darkness. How all the worst circumstances had collided in order for her and Itachi's paths to converge…and, somehow, how fate had worked to bring her, Sasuke, and Naruto together again.

"You have a lot of work to do, Naruto," Sasuke finally offers, surveying the village with a critical eye.

Naruto nods, the exhaustion visibly catching up with him. "Yeah, but – it can wait until morning. Right now, everybody needs to rest, and I just want to sit here and—"

He stops abruptly, embarrassed.

"We're still going to be here in the morning," Sasuke says snidely, accurately guessing his once-friend's thoughts.

Naruto looks toward Sakura for confirmation, and she gives him the best smile she can manage under the circumstances, reaching out to take his hand. "Yeah," she replies quietly, unable to think about the implications of her words – she shouldn't say it; she should _definitely _not say it – "we will."

* * *

_to be continued_

* * *

That was a monster of a chapter. Over twenty thousand words, people. I apologize for the lack of Itachi in this one, but everything with Itachi and Sakura will be worked out in the next chapter, because **unless things** **horribly run away with me **(or an epilogue becomes absolutely necessary), **the next chapter** will be **the last chapter.**

I apologize for the wait, and I'll try to have the next one out on a timely basis. In better news, yesterday, my mom came home from the hospital – it is absolutely wonderful to have her back home after so long of her being gone, and I hope with all of my heart that from here on, things will be better for her. As always, thank all of you so much for your kind words and support. They really have meant the world to me.

Thank you so much to everybody who reviewed, and any and all feedback would be very much appreciated. :)


	21. Daybreak

_As always, thank you to everybody who was marvelous enough to review. :) I sincerely apologize for the long wait for this chapter – my laptop crashed, taking quite a bit of this chapter with it. I had to send it in to be repaired, and I just got it back a few days ago. Also! Before The Dawn now officially has two lovely pieces of fanart, by the incredibly talented skyblueocean and Angie-san. The links are on my profile…and you guys should definitely check it out, if you've got time. _

_-_

_Chapter Twenty-One: Daybreak _

_-_

It is a little past midnight, and the storm still hasn't passed.

Even from here, standing in the middle of the forest exactly one mile out from Konoha's east gate, Sakura can still smell the residue of the two fires that had raged earlier in the night – ash and smoke, choked by the distinctive scent of damp earth and rain. The strong scent makes her nose twitch slightly, as the pink-haired kunoichi shifts uncomfortably, wrapping her arms around herself. The thin material of her olive-green turtleneck clings to her skin, chilling her through to the bone; it is still drizzling, and the air is thick with cold mist.

It is more than likely that Naruto, Sasuke, Tenten, Lee, Ino, Shikamaru, and the rest of her friends and their families will be up for the rest of the night, trying their best to repair the damage that had been done to Konoha in the past few hours. She should be helping Naruto, Sasuke, and Sai clear up the wreckage that is the lower few stories of Hokage Tower, but…

Sakura bites her lip, staring out into the dark forest. She had sent her slug summons to Itachi a little less than an hour ago, so he should be here any minute. Naruto and Sasuke had both given her oddly knowing looks when she had quietly told them she had some business to attend to and slipped out of the tower, the promise that she had – stupidly, foolishly – made Naruto immediately after their victory still hanging in the air between them.

The wind blows again, sudden and cold, rattling the branches of the nearby trees and ripping countless leaves off them, so that they swirl disconsolately in the air once, before being pushed along the muddy dirt path of the forest, back toward Konoha. She turns away to watch, and it captures Sakura's attention so thoroughly that, when she feels the feather-light brush of his fingers against her cheek, she turns toward Itachi so quickly that she nearly pulls a muscle in her neck.

Itachi barely has enough time to register that, save for a small, scabbed-over cut on Sakura's neck, the severely singed ends of her hair, and the smudged paint and ash that have smeared hopelessly against her cheekbones, she looks _completely _unharmed, before Sakura actually jumps into his arms with enough force to knock both of them back several feet, so that his back lands squarely against the trunk of the nearest tree.

As Sakura could have easily predicted, Itachi says nothing, but he pulls her close and holds her so tightly that her ribs scream out in protest and feel just about ready to give out from the pressure, his fingers tangling roughly in her ponytail as he closes his eyes, breathing her in, before finally letting out a long sigh that sounds almost tortured. Pressed as she is against his chest, Sakura can hear how much his heart is racing, and her stomach twists at the realization of how much Itachi must have worried for her. She had been so absorbed in her own nerves about the coup that she hadn't realized how difficult it must have been for him.

"You shouldn't have worried," Sakura manages reproachfully, finally extricating herself from the embrace and reaching up and smoothing a disarrayed strand of hair behind her lover's ear. "Danzou and his supporters are dead, Naruto is officially the Seventh Hokage, and there were no casualties on our side—"

Apparently somewhat recovered, Itachi raises an eyebrow disbelievingly. "Statistically improbable."

"Yes, but not impossible," Sakura counters, undaunted, and she can't help but smile again, standing on the tips of her toes in order to press a kiss to his cheek.

The corner of Itachi's mouth quirks a little in the manner that indicates that he is attempting to murder a smile before it gets out, and in order to mask it, he gently touches the small cut on her throat. "You told me not to worry," he comments coolly. "Knowing your luck, though, it is an entirely welcome surprise that this was not more serious."

Sakura shrugs, flustered at the mention of her infamously horrible luck, before taking his hand in hers and intertwining their fingers, and she can't help but determinedly look down at the ground. "It probably would have been," she replies, a little guiltily, "if your brother hadn't stepped in and helped me decimate that Root guard with his Chidori."

If Itachi had been a lesser man, he would have choked out loud. As it is, he takes a step back, the color slowly draining out of his face. "…Pardon?" he asks guardedly.

"Sasuke," Sakura sighs, lifting one hand to rub the back of her sore neck. "Out of _nowhere_, he and his little team decided to join the fight – he heard about the coup, and came to hunt down Danzou…to, um," – she glances up at Itachi, almost nervously – "to avenge your clan," she finishes, in a rush. "…And he said he did it for you, too. In the end, I…held Danzou still, and Naruto and Sasuke finished him off in the same second."

In one of the rare expressions of physical emotion that she has ever seen from him, Itachi closes his eyes and turns away. The quiet pain radiating from every aspect of his body actually brings a fresh sting of tears to Sakura's eyes as she reaches out to him a little unsteadily, placing her hand on his shoulder. Sasuke would understand Itachi's anguish better than she does, but maybe that will come later. Danzou is finished, and…even though it won't bring the Uchiha clan back, it might finally give the only two remaining members some closure and the strength and capability to move on.

It is a long time before the knot in Itachi's chest and throat loosens enough to allow him to speak. "Sasuke?" he asks softly.

Sakura rubs his shoulders gently, before withdrawing. "Sasuke is staying in Konoha," she murmurs. "He says – he says that now, his purpose in life has been completed, and he has no reason to stay away. Naruto says that he's thinking about reestablishing the village's police force, and naming Sasuke the head of it."

Itachi glances up at the darkened sky, his eyes shadowed somewhat. "Ah."

A long, slightly uncomfortable silence dawns over them, before Itachi inclines his head toward Sakura again. "And you?"

The question takes Sakura by surprise, and she looks up at him, startled. "Head of the hospital and director of everything in the village remotely related to the medical field – just like…Tsunade-shishou used to, along with an official spot as one of the Hokage's personal political advisors." She hesitates, forcing herself to shake her head dismissively, as she tries to dislodge the sudden, unyielding lump in her throat. "But all of that doesn't matter; I mean, it's not like I'm going to—"

"—Stay," Itachi finishes quietly.

"Yeah," Sakura responds, forcing her tone to remain steady. She's going to hate herself for this in the morning, and she's going to have to hope that Naruto doesn't, but no matter how much she wants to stay in Konoha, she can never force Itachi to stay – and she can never leave him, either.

It is with that thought in her mind that she turns away, looking back toward the familiar gates. "Stay here," Sakura finally manages, and it is a wonder that the words don't get stuck in her throat. "I'll be back in half an hour or less. I just want to say good-bye to Naruto, Sasuke and a few other of my friends…"

"No."

The word is quiet and gently spoken, even though Itachi looks almost in pain as he says it, and Sakura blinks, stunned. "What—"

He tries to stop himself, but Itachi reaches out nevertheless, brushing his palm lightly against her paint-smeared face and rubbing his thumb along her cheekbone as if he aims to memorize its contours. "Stay," he echoes, his voice almost lost in the wind.

There can be no question of her mishearing it, but the shock is cold and numbing, starting in her toes and slowly working its way up, leaving Sakura's hands trembling a little. It must be some sort of misunderstanding, and she forces herself to brush a lock of hair behind her ear in a falsely casual gesture. "You're not," she begins, her voice feeling a little too loud for the eerie hush of the dark forest. "You're not breaking up with me, are you?"

The term sounds so pathetically juvenile in this context that it makes some small part of her want to laugh hysterically, but for just about the third time that night, her eyes fill up with tears, and for the briefest moment, Sakura can actually swear that Itachi flinches. "Sakura," he says quietly. "I most certainly am not – it is just that I…" – he struggles with the words for a few moments – "I know how much you want this," he finally finishes, too emotionally overwrought to phrase things with his typical tact and smoothness.

Sakura turns on him with sudden fury, though, glaring at him venomously. "I do want it!" she hisses, seeing red for a moment, as she locks gazes with him. "I want it with all my heart – but I also want _you_, you idiot, and I've made my choice! Can't you see that? Do you have to play the fucking martyr every single time?"

Perversely enough, the verbal assault makes something in Itachi's gaze soften minutely, and even though her eyes are still smoldering rebelliously, Sakura does not resist as he reaches toward her again. "Try to understand, Sakura," he murmurs, his voice low. "I know how deeply you feel about returning to Konoha; I know how much you want it, and I do not wish for you to ever have second thoughts about our relationship, and our future together – I never want you to regret any of the choices that you have made."

It feels like too vague of an explanation, but Itachi knows that there is no way that he can ever tell her that, for once in their time together, and appropriately enough now that they are engaged and therefore committing their entire lives to one another, he wants to have her – _all_ of her_, _with no regrets or apprehensions or conflicts or torn loyalties – to himself. And this, painful though it may be, is the only way to guarantee that if-when (he cannot decide which) Sakura returns to him, it will be because she truly wants to be there; because she has finally, irrevocably, chosen him over the other, equally important and desired aspects of her life.

"And you're doing this by?" Sakura asks coldly, forcing herself to not see the reason in his words; forcing herself to believe that, if she goes with him now, she will never, _ever _have any regrets about what she is leaving behind.

This is easily one of the hardest things he has ever done, but Itachi folds his hands within the sleeves of his Akatsuki cloak. Sakura looks small and uncertain underneath the brave façade, and, kami, despite how miserable she looks, why is it so hard for him to believe that she will miss him even after a few days back in Konoha? "Stay for as long as you wish," he responds, trying to keep his tone as tightly controlled as possible. "I will be in Rain, if you choose to seek me out."

It feels like something rock-hard and immovable has crawled up into her throat and died there, but Sakura makes herself incline her head coolly. She feels horrible that he's doing this to her; she feels horrible that she's ever given him _reason _to do this to her (because she has, way too much), and she feels the worst sort of disloyalty at the fact that some rational part of her has acknowledged that it is really very smart of Itachi, because otherwise, she would have spent their entire life together wondering about what could have been, and who knows what _those _kind of second-thoughts could have led to—

The pink-haired kunoichi swallows hard, and before she even realizes what she is doing, she is already peeling off the skintight black glove that covers her left hand. Her grip is steady as she pulls off the emerald-and-silver engagement ring from her finger, and Itachi looks almost stricken as she forces it into his cool palm, along with that one glove. "Something to remember me by," Sakura comments softly, unable to bring herself to look him in the eye. "When you're back in Rain and all."

She sees three years' worth of memories reflected in Itachi's charcoal-gray eyes (their entirely awkward first meetings, their disastrous first kiss, their first time, the countless instances she had forced him to go shopping with her, the rainy afternoons that he would spend reading his poetry and she would curl up next to him, reading her medical textbooks, the one night in Rice Country that they had actually stayed up the entire night talking about their respective childhoods, and a million more too numerous and diverse to name), and then he is wrapping his arms around her again, pulling her close, and Sakura braces her hands against his chest, trying her best to catch her breath.

"It is unlikely that I could ever forget," Itachi replies, and momentarily, Sakura wonders whether it's just her imagination or the rush of the rain or whether he does actually sound a little choked, but—

She stands on the tips of her toes, and he leans down to meet her, and they kiss, long and hard, but in the next second, he is gone, leaving her with nothing but a handful of ash.

Sakura stands there for a few long minutes, completely unsure of what to feel, and finally, just as the rain begins to pick up in earnest, she turns back on the path, ready to return to her home.

-

_Konoha; Two Months Later_

-

Despite the fact that soft flutters of snowflakes – half-snow, half-rain, and likely to be completely melted by night, as Sasuke the incurable pessimist took joy in reminding her this morning; effectively ruining her excitement – cool her brow, dampen her hair, and generally chill every inch of her skin that they come in contact with, Sakura is still panting and the tiniest bit out of breath by the time she emerges from the narrow, winding path that leads to the top of the mountain.

The stone is icy; slippery underneath her feet even with the help of her customary thick-heeled boots, and she takes care as she cautiously traverses the trail passing through the tops of the heads of her village's most esteemed leaders. Even though he is not the one she is seeking, Sakura pauses a moment, looking down at the stone features of the Fourth Hokage, and she can't help but direct the slightest smile over to the carving in progress, three spots down the mountain. Naruto's carving is only one-fourth of the way completed, but it is already shaping up to look so much like his father's that the resemblance is almost startling – save for the minutest of differences, the two of them could be twins.

At this altitude, the wind whistles through her ears so loudly that it is almost painful, and it takes Sakura a moment's concentration to adequately judge the distance between the path, and the top of the carving of the Godaime Hokage's likeness. Even though it is technically forbidden, Naruto had confessed that he does this all the time, when he wants to do some serious thinking or get in touch with himself, and it is that conversation of two days ago that has motivated her to seek out this remote location.

The leap from the path had been nothing excessively nerve-wracking, but still, Sakura sits down a little tremulously, on the ridge of Tsunade's precisely carved blonde hair. She presses her palms to the stone beneath her, and exhales deeply, looking out at the village beneath her – the village that her shishou had loved so much, and the one that she and all of her childhood teammates and friends had been willing to fight to the death for. The fully-repaired Konoha looks deceptively serene right now; carpeted in an ethereally thin layer of snow, and from this spectacular vantage point, she can see everything – the Academy, where Iruka and Hinata must be patiently instructing the next generation of shinobi, and where Karin is likely in her element, not only teaching specialized kunoichi skills to the girls, but training all of the classes in how to better utilize their chakra to track any given individual. The nearby ANBU offices, where Neji, Shino, and Sai should be working on reviewing the qualifications of the season's hopeful new recruits, and Hokage Tower, where Naruto, Sasuke, and Shikamaru are probably ripping their hair out in boredom as they sort through the immense lists of new diplomatic business to take care of, now that the leadership of Konoha and its foreign policy has changed so dramatically. And, of course, the hospital, Sakura's own pride and joy, now refurbished and reorganized and well on its way to regaining its former state of glory and reputation for cutting-edge medical technology.

Sakura traces her cold, nearly-numb fingertips over the stone beneath her – tan and weathered, so different from the vibrant, meticulously cared-for blonde of Tsunade's long mane. She is happy here in Konoha, and she almost hates herself for it.

She looks down at the empty spot on her left hand, formerly occupied by her engagement ring, and the sight no longer makes tears come to her eyes – just…a strange, deep feeling of emptiness.

Itachi had told her to find him in Rain, if-when she was ready. It sounds so incredibly simple, but it is anything but – she has no idea what to do. Being back in Konoha and living like this is a dream come true; it is what she has always wanted for herself, from when she was a little girl. She had imagined her future life to be like this, back when she had been a just-turned-fifteen idealistic chunin, blossoming under the tutelage of Tsunade, and glorying in her newfound skills as a truly powerful kunoichi.

Almost absentmindedly, Sakura reaches up to touch the new forehead protector tied around her head – brand-new, unslashed metal, which Naruto had given to her personally, the morning after the coup. Most of her other friends who had been branded as missing-nin had actually burned their slashed forehead protectors, but she had taken hers home and placed it at her bedside. It contains far too many memories for her to ever even consider disposing of it.

She is incredibly busy by day, between advising Naruto, caring for various patients, and running the hospital, and every night, she, Sasuke, and Naruto have dinner together, and usually spend the next few hours after that lounging around and just talking. It is just so…idealistic. Content. Happy.

Too good to be true.

Whenever Sakura actually stops and thinks about it – and she tries not to – it feels like she is missing a limb…or something else, something internal, and equally crucial to her. How many times has she seen a shadow shift in the darkness of her apartment and turned to it, expecting to see Itachi? How many times has she seen Sasuke using the Sharingan and then stumbled through the rest of the day, distracted beyond all belief?

Why had she stayed awake for almost all of last night, unable to keep herself from thinking of last winter – the almost-perfect winter that she had spent with Itachi? The smallest things remind her of him; this first snow had brought back memories of all the times she had tried – and failed – to engage him in a proper snowball fight, and she can't even pass the window displays at the bookstore because they happen to be doing a promotion of his favorite poet's latest compilation.

Leaving Konoha, the new, improved and entirely wonderful Konoha, behind again…it'll hurt her a lot, nearly as deeply, if not more, than the previous time did. At the same time, never seeing Itachi; never being with him ever again…

Maybe the pain of their separation will dull, after a few more months. Maybe she'll learn how to truly move on with her life and fully enjoy the second chance that she's been given, here.

And maybe she won't.

And, most troublesome of all, does she even _want _to?

Sakura sighs, tormented, raking her fingers through her long hair out of sheer desperation. The wind is even colder now, icy pinpricks sharp against her face and bringing tears to her eyes.

Once she has regained some of her composure, the pink-haired kunoichi places both hands flat against the stone beneath her. Logically, she knows that this is just an extraordinary likeness; there is nothing of Tsunade's heart and soul and attitude in it, but—

A fresh wave of despair washes over her, leaving Sakura feeling lost and somewhat bereft.

"What would you do, shishou?" she whispers, the question to the person she had respected most in the world almost lost in the howling of the wind. "Please, just give me something – anything – to go on; just give me some kind of sign—"

Long minutes pass in tense silence, the wind continues howling, and snowflakes swirl in endless circles in front of her as they cascade to the ground, but other than that, there is nothing.

To be fair, it isn't like Sakura had _expected _the stormclouds above her to mysteriously swirl into a representation of Tsunade's face and have that speak to her through the wind or something, but she has always trusted in the powers of spirituality, and now, disappointment is a punch in the stomach.

Dejected, Sakura looks away from the village, back toward the path. Maybe this had been a stupid idea, and she would be better off not wasting her precious couple of hours off, or at least, maybe she should save the deep thinking for the warmth of the coffee shop near the hospital—

"Forehead Girl! _Hello_? Can you hear me?"

The shrill voice is such a sudden interruption from her silent, morose contemplations that Sakura very nearly falls off the edge of the mountain as she swivels backward incredulously. "Ino-pig?" she asks, trying to mask her disbelief, while craning her neck in order to stare at her loud blonde friend, who is swathed in a very fashion-forward purple parka and making her way down the icy path, toward her. "What are you _doing_ here?"

Ino scowls as she hops the short distance from the path to the stone likeness of Tsunade's hair. "Very nice greeting, Sakura-chan," she replies grumpily, stretching her legs out in front of her and making herself comfortable. "I blow off lunch with poor, overworked Shino-kun to try and find my mysteriously absent very best friend in the whole world and this is what I get. How lovely."

"Sorry, Ino," Sakura rolls her eyes, and despite her bad mood, she can't help but smile a little at the mention of Shino. Needless to say, she had been absolutely shockedto find out about Ino and Shino's engagement – the two of them had been dating since Ino turned sixteen, it turned out, when the two of them had bonded during the secret inter-clan meetings that Inoichi had coordinated. Apparently, Shino was the calming force for the high-strung, restless, and often dangerously impulsive Ino; while Ino's unbreakable spirit had given Shino hope during the times when things looked darkest. Sakura can easily admit that the two of them are the most well-suited couple she has ever encountered in her entire life.

"Yeah, well," Ino disclaims, flapping one gloved hand nonchalantly. "You can make it up to me by telling me what's wrong."

Sakura blinks, looking away. "What gives you that idea?"

"You're sitting alone, on top of Hokage Mountain, obviously freezing your ass off and looking like you're about to burst out in tears at any given moment," Ino replies succinctly. When Sakura says nothing, still determinedly avoiding her gaze, the blonde kunoichi raises her voice just a little bit. "And you've seemed just a little out of sorts for this entire past month, so are you _sure _there's nothing you want to tell me?"

Sakura closes her eyes exhaustedly. "Go away, Ino."

"I will do no such thing, Forehead Girl," Ino glowers. "Look, whatever it is, it's bothering you a lot and I can _help_, and you have nothing whatsoever to lose by telling me, so…"

She trails off meaningfully, and try as she might, Sakura can't help but see her best friend's logic. She has never told Ino about Itachi, and…well, there would appear to be no harm in doing so now. Besides, she will not make the mistake of underestimating Ino's sheer stubbornness, combined with her refusal to take no for an answer, _and _her spectacular deductive skills. It is a dangerous combination, to say the least.

"It's a really long story," Sakura finally mumbles, by way of an answer.

"All the better," Ino chirps brightly.

"Keep an open mind, okay?"

"Would you expect anything less from your best friend?"

For a moment, Sakura has a painful flashback to the Naruto incident of two years ago, and she has to force herself to put it out of her mind. "…Right. Well…" she hesitates, looking at the vast expanse of forest outside of Konoha, leading to the rest of the Fire Country. "It started almost exactly three years ago…"

-

Sakura talks until her lips are thoroughly chapped, her throat is raw from the too-cold wind, and her voice threatens to give out. She doesn't look at Ino at all throughout, instead forcing herself to focus on the village beneath her. There are times when it takes an effort not to tear up, and others when she feels a slightly nostalgic smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

The story ends on a somewhat flat note, though, leaving Sakura with nothing to do save for wrapping her arms around herself, biting her lip in an instinctive nervous gesture.

Ino's voice, when it finally comes, is surprisingly toneless. "Is that it?"

Sakura dares to glance back at her, and she finds Ino twisting her fingers together in her lap, a somewhat familiar look in her cornflower-blue eyes. "Yeah, it is."

"He left," Ino confirms, "because he didn't want you to go with him and spend the rest of your life regretting the idea of what could have been."

Sakura winces somewhat, not entirely because of the cold. "…Yes."

"And you're here now. Still."

"…Obviously, Ino-pig."

The attack comes so fast that Sakura has no hopes of defending herself – in one quick, smooth movement, Ino pulls out her favorite fan from one of her pockets and smacks Sakura on the head, hard, with the heavy ebony siding. "You _idiot_, Forehead Girl! What the hell are you doing? What were you _thinking_? You were supposed to be the smart one out of the two of us!"

Completely taken aback by the sudden offensive, Sakura throws her hands on top of her head in a futile attempt to protect herself. The ebony is cold and hard and it _stings_, and— "Stop it, you pig! _Ouch_!"

Her delicate features flushed with anger, Ino snaps the scarlet-and-gold fan closed with a decisive click. "You deserved that."

Sakura rubs the rapidly-growing bump on her head ruefully, glaring at her so-called best friend. "How so?" she asks acidly.

"For being an imbecile! Home is where the heart is, Sakura-_chan_. Everybody knows that."

There is a moment of dawning horror at the realization that Ino might actually be making sense, but Sakura can't just sit by and let this go. "But Ino—"

"But nothing!" Ino fairly screeches, now looking even more enraged. "Itachi _loves _you, Forehead Girl, and you love him, and that's one of the most precious and wonderful gifts that life can ever give you, but you had to go and make everything _so _fucking complicated! It wasn't your fault that he had to go all noble self-sacrificing martyr on you, but _you _didn't have to carry this on for so long and make his stupid idea justified!"

Sakura stares at Ino incredulously, feeling more than a little beleaguered. "But…Konoha – you – Naruto—"

Ino sighs deeply. "Konoha," she says calmly, "is always going to be here. I am always going to be here, and so are Naruto, Sasuke, Tenten, Lee…you get the picture. You don't have to live here permanently for it to always be a part of you, and vice versa."

Knowing that she has her best friend right where she wants her, Ino takes Sakura by the hand gently, and the two kunoichi stare out over the village. "Look," Ino begins abruptly. "I'm not going to lie. I would love for you to live here. When you were gone, before the coup, I used to dream about how I wanted things to be, afterward. I wanted you and everyone else back here, to stay. I used to imagine some kind of idealistic happy life where we would all live on the same street and get together for lunch every day, and raise our children together, and somehow they would end up being best friends as well—"

"Except that life doesn't necessarily work out like that," Sakura completes wistfully.

"Yeah," Ino acknowledges softly. "I could be selfish on my part and everyone else's, because I can guarantee that nobody really _wants _to see you run off to Rain with Itachi, but I'm not, because I – like everybody else, no matter how much of a fuss they'll make about it – just want you to be happy. So you have to give up a little to do so…so what? In the larger scheme of things, it's worth it. It won't be like last time, Sakura. You can come home – um, come _here_ – whenever you want, and we'll be counting on it."

Discreetly, Sakura wipes a few of the stray tears away from her cheeks before they freeze there. "When did you get so wise, Ino-pig?" she asks quietly.

Ino grins cheekily, fluttering her fan at herself and basking in the praise. "I guess it's because I always knew you, in all of your great intelligence, would screw up _someday_ – and really, who else would be kind enough to step in and save your ass?"

"Right," Sakura smiles, before standing up, a little unsteadily. She can't believe that she is doing this, but something in Ino's words rings so true, and now, she actually feels a little bit ashamed at herself for being so stupid for so long – and hopefully, _hopefully_, it isn't too late for her to make things right. "I guess – I guess that I should go talk to Naruto, then."

Ino rises as well, her eyes looking suspiciously bright. "You're right; there's no point in waiting any longer, I guess. So, I better not see you walking home tonight after your last shift at the hospital, Sakura."

This shouldn't be so hard, since it isn't like last time, but Sakura's throat nearly closes over, nevertheless, as she attempts a smile. "Don't worry – I won't be."

They hug tightly, and even though it is incredibly hard to let go, Sakura finally does, giving her best friend a bittersweet smile over her shoulder as she makes her way back onto the path. "See you later, Ino-pig."

"Yeah, Forehead Girl," Ino sniffles, and when Sakura is halfway out of sight already, the blonde kunoichi raises her voice to make sure it is heard over the wind. "You had better come back for my wedding, Sakura, or I swear that I'll hunt you down myself!"

Even though Ino cannot see it, Sakura smiles as she shoves her hands into her pockets. "I wouldn't miss it for the world, Ino," she replies softly.

And then they are separated by a rocky outcrop, and Sakura looks up at the stormy gray sky, remembering another talented, loud, and fierce-tempered blonde kunoichi. It appears that signs can come in all shapes, sizes, and forms…

_Thank you, Tsunade-shishou._

-

The guards at the door wave Sakura inside after the briefest glimpse of her telltale pink hair, and she slips past the heavy wooden door as quietly as possible. After so long spent sitting outside in the freezing cold, the Hokage's private office is incredibly, welcomingly warm and comfortingly ramen-scented – likely because of how Naruto appears to be slurping from the largest bowl of noodles she has ever seen, while simultaneously and very intently reviewing what appears to be a new treaty agreement with—

_Rain_?

Sakura stops dead, startled, and Sasuke, lounging on a nearby armchair while perusing the files of several prospective Konoha Police Force recruits, glances up at her, unconcerned. "I bought onigiri with umeboshi, too," he states casually. "Naruto 'had a feeling', apparently, that you would drop by."

"Oh, really?" Sakura asks, not a little suspiciously, eyeing her guilty-looking best friend and Hokage. "Why is that?"

Naruto grins at her through a mouthful of noodles. "How could you stay away, knowing your two bestest friends in the whole world are slaving away over mountains of paperwork, Sakura-chan? Grab a file and get to work, and I'll give you food!"

Sakura winces a little as she takes the seat in front of Naruto's desk, and it takes a real effort for her to rest her hands calmly and composedly on her lap. "I did want to talk to you two," she begins levelly, "but not about paperwork."

Sasuke suddenly looks at her very sharply, rising from the armchair in order to slink over to Naruto's side like a dark shadow, but Naruto just shrugs, apparently oblivious. "Go ahead, Sakura-chan."

Sakura keeps it concise and unapologetic, and in less than a minute, where there had previously been a comfortable atmosphere, there is now nothing but dead silence.

She cannot read Naruto or Sasuke's facial expressions – truth be told; she doesn't even want to try – but now, startlingly enough, Sakura feels nothing but calm resolve as she reaches up to her forehead protector, tugging the ribbon free of her hair with steady hands.

"Hokage-sama," she murmurs formally, folding it neatly and placing the rectangle of shiny metal on the desk in front of the stricken-looking Naruto, "Shizune Shiranui is an equally capable medic-nin who will more than adequately take my place. With this assurance that I am not abandoning my post to a less-than-capable successor, please accept my formal and complete resignation as a Konoha shinobi."

Sakura meets their gazes evenly, and to her surprise, Sasuke reacts first; inclining his head a fraction of an inch, his darkened gray eyes showing something along the lines of – respect? Acceptance?

Naruto recovers a moment later – his face has been forced into staying completely expressionless, although Sakura can see the grief in his eyes, and it does hurt a little – and his right hand shakes a little as he reaches out, confiscating her Konoha forehead protector. "I accept," he states quietly, looking down at his desk for a fraction of a moment. "Sakura Haruno, do you fully understand and realize the consequences of your actions, effective immediately, or will you require a clear delineation of said consequences?"

"That will not be necessary, Hokage-sama," Sakura replies softly, feeling something in her heart fracture a little. "I understand."

Naruto smiles a little bitterly, opening a drawer in his desk, and carefully depositing her forehead protector inside it. "Then so be it."

There is a moment when all three members of the original Team Seven sigh in unison, and now, formality dispensed with, Sakura looks at her best friend, anguished. "Naruto—"

"No, Sakura-chan," Naruto replies firmly, and he attempts a smile. "Go and be happy, and you had better write and stuff as soon as you get there, all right? Also, you should give us a couple of months advance notice as to when exactly you're getting hitched, so I can get clearance for diplomatic leave ahead of time—"

Sakura swallows determinedly, but the knot in her throat gives no indication of going away, as she crosses over to the other side of the desk and hugs him around the shoulders tightly. "Thank you so much, Naruto," she whispers.

Sasuke is leaning against the wall, looking out of the window – due east, in the direction of Rain, and Sakura stops awkwardly, momentarily unsure of what to do or say. "Sasuke…"

"You're making the right decision," Sasuke says abruptly, and before Sakura can even attempt to formulate a reply, he swallows very conspicuously, refusing to look at her. "Tell him," he begins at last. "Tell Itachi—"

Sasuke gestures vaguely with one hand, still staring at the floor and looking more emotionally involved than she has seen in a long time, and Sakura can't help but smile softly, reaching out and wrapping her arms around him for a moment. "Maybe you should tell him in person, sometime."

Sasuke actually reciprocates the contact for a fraction of a second. "Yeah," he echoes, sounding thoughtful. "Maybe I should. …I'd like that."

"Get out of here before I change my mind, Sakura-chan," Naruto declares, trying – and failing – to sound gruff and detached, although the pretense stops in the very next second, as Sakura begins to make her way to the door. "Wear a jacket – like, get one of those stupid fluffy parkas that Ino loves, because it's _cold_, and remember that there's no better travel food than hot, steamy ramen, and—"

"…Shut up, dobe. You're forgetting that she's more intelligent than you and will make it to Rain without a problem."

The door closes behind her, and Sakura wipes her eyes with the back of her hands, taking a deep breath, as she rushes down the familiar spiral steps for the last time.

-

It's too cold and wet to wear anything but her jounin uniform on the way to Rain – even though she has no rights to wear it any longer, Sakura knows that Naruto won't mind, although the chunin guards at the eastern perimeter give her strange looks upon noting her conspicuous lack of a forehead protector, coupled with the light pack that she has slung over one shoulder.

She is standing alone in front of the open gate – the same gate that she had snuck out through, in the middle of the night, three years ago. Sakura just stares at it, and at what is beyond, for what feels like a long time.

Last time, she had been afraid; running from a fate too horrible to comprehend – toward the unknown, which was just as frightening. This time…

A tiny smile touches the corner of her mouth as Sakura turns and takes one look back at Konoha. This time, she's not afraid. She's running _to _something (something that she should have never let go), and really, that makes all the difference.

-

_Rain_

-

It had taken five days.

Five long, horrible, utterly agonizing days, and it feels like she has never been so happy to lay eyes on one single location in her entire life thus far.

To be fair, Sakura reasons, as she offers her security clearance to the guards at the gate in order to enter the city – one seemingly indestructible origami water lily, folded by Konan herself; the golden paper embossed with her personal stamp – Rain is not the miserable, dilapidated ghost town that it had been two and a half years ago, when she had first seen it. Under the leadership of Pein and Konan, it has definitely blossomed. Every single road and side street has been fully, impeccably paved, and dilapidated wrecks that used to serve as civilian housing and various storefronts have been replaced by clean, elegant-looking buildings with undoubtedly sophisticated architecture and design, and the city itself has expanded somewhat; this is the housing area, which means that things are pretty much darkened for the night, but a few blocks over, Sakura can make out the glow of lights in the distance.

This place had been so unfamiliar and forbidding to her when she had first seen it, but now, Sakura's feet seem to carry her over of their own accord, through the side path of trees and the secluded path leading to the large field that the Akatsuki headquarters are located under. There is at least five inches of mud underneath her feet, making even her thick-heeled boots sink somewhat, and the pink-haired kunoichi winces, struggling to make her way over to the middle of the field. It has been raining nonstop for the past five days, and she is soaked through and, by now, mud has probably become chemically bonded in some way to her body. Be that as it may, this is still a horribly ignominious location, though, and thankfully, Konan has been pleading with Pein for the past year for the Akatsuki to consider relocating their headquarters to an aboveground location, but he had said it would take at least another six months to garner the requisite funds.

Sakura comes to a stop at the middle of the field, right above where the kitchen should be, and she stares down at the ground beneath her apprehensively. She has never done this without Itachi, but Sakura knows that Pein and Konan had added her chakra signature to the list of those accepted through the barrier defense. Still, she experiences a moment of numbing trepidation as she screws her eyes shut and concentrates her hardest, and then—

There is a curious tingling sensation throughout the length of her spine, and a sudden, overwhelming sensation of the most total and complete dizziness she has ever experienced. For a second after Sakura forces her eyes open, vaguely registering that she appears to be leaning against a wall in order to keep her balance, she sees nothing but hazy, floating purple spots juxtaposed against a background of pitch black.

"Sakura."

The voice is soft, serene, and familiar, and by the time Sakura's vision clears, Konan is already pressing a warm cup of something fragrant and steaming hot into her hands. The blue-haired kunoichi gives her a gentle smile, as if she is not surprised in the least to witness the very sudden and impromptu return of a missing member – who happens to be dripping a river's worth of water and vile mud onto the pristine, dark-wooden floors of the kitchen.

"Thank you," Sakura mumbles, meeting the other woman's gaze, and feeling slightly abashed. "I—"

"I knew you would return," Konan states, in her usual calm, implacable manner, and once she has judged Sakura to be relatively steady on her feet, she steps back, returning to the stove, where she had apparently been working prior to this. "Onigiri with umeboshi, I presume? You must be incredibly hungry."

Sakura places her cup of orange tea down on the counter, distracted, and unable to even spare the briefest of moments to enjoy the welcome warmth and dryness of the kitchen, even though she hasn't experienced anything of the sort in the past five days. "Konan, I'm sorry, but I need to see Itachi—"

There is suddenly something cold and steely at her back, and every muscle in Sakura's bone-weary body tenses as she turns around slowly.

"Kisame, please," Konan murmurs, without looking up from her careful pursuit of shaping the rice just how Sakura likes it. "Spare us the theatrics; she has been through enough."

"Bullshit," Kisame growls, even though he pulls Samehada back, albeit reluctantly. He glares at Sakura, who simply meets his gaze evenly, not intimidated by the nearly two and a half feet that he has on her – she had a lot of time to think on the journey here, and she predicted as much, after all. She and Kisame had actually formed a friendship, of sorts, in the past two years…but she has always known that Kisame's relationship with Itachi is infinitely stronger.

The two shinobi size each other up for a few long moments, before Kisame finally deigns to speak. "What the hell took you so long, kunoichi?" he asks roughly. "What makes you think you can just walk back in here after what you did and—"

"—I made a mistake," Sakura hisses back, drawing herself up to her full height. "I'm not going to apologize for it, but I've come to terms with my life, and I've made my choices. Now, _move_."

Kisame looks her over appraisingly, and Sakura has the satisfaction of seeing his eyes widen when they land on her conspicuous lack of Konoha forehead protector, slashed or otherwise, either tied in her hair or across her forehead. "…I see," he comments, at last, still looking somewhat flabbergasted.

He steps aside, and with one last look back at Konan, who gives her a small, encouraging sort of smile, Sakura strides out of the kitchen, unable to still the suddenly rapid pacing of her heart. Instead of staying back, though, Kisame follows at her side. "Sorry," he says brusquely, not looking at her. "It was just that…"

Sakura keeps her eyes fixed on the path ahead as well. The interior of the headquarters has undergone a dramatic transformation since Madara's death – the corridors, once pitch-black and nothing less than menacing, are warmly and brightly lit with soft orbs of golden chakra-fire. "How is he?" she asks abruptly, trying to keep herself sounding at least somewhat composed.

"Awful," Kisame replies succinctly. "He hasn't set foot outside the headquarters since then. He and Konan are the Leader's official political and diplomatic advisors, so he keeps himself buried in paperwork to stay occupied. It's hard enough getting him to come out for meals – he survived entirely on tea for a few days, until Konan started bringing a tray over." The former Mist shinobi gives her a sideways look. "I tried to get him to come out on an assignment with me the day afterward, for old times' sake and all that, but I get the feeling that he was always worried that you would come over at any time and he would miss you."

The words feel almost like a physical blow, and Sakura has to close her eyes for a moment, willing herself to stay calm. "…Oh," she says, at last, her voice a million times smaller than she would have liked.

Seemingly taking pity on her, Kisame pats her on the shoulder gruffly, as they come to a stop outside of Itachi's room. "Itachi's talking to the Leader right now about some treaty with Konoha," he offers, before turning away. "He should be back in about half an hour or so."

Sakura tries her best to offer him some semblance of a smile. "Thank you, Kisame."

His back turned to her, the shark-man lifts one hand casually. "No problem, kid. It's good to have you back."

It takes a little while of rummaging around in her pockets for Sakura to find the key to Itachi's room, and in the next second, she is stepping into the empty area, carefully flicking on the light switch at the side of the door.

It smells like him, and like tea, and the sudden sensation actually makes Sakura's chest constrict out of sheer nostalgia as she glances around the room. The first thing that strikes her is that there is paper everywhere; large, neat piles of rough drafts of various international treaties located all over the desk space and the foot of the bed. There are a few abandoned, half-drunk cups of tea scattered above them, but Sakura still makes her way to the edge of his bed, her soaked, muddy clothes be damned.

She sinks down on it, gently running her hands over the woven, dark red comforter, and by pure coincidence, the next thing her eyes light on is Itachi's bedside table.

It is completely bare, save for a picture of the two of them – taken about a year and a half ago, while they had been passing through a crowded city market. She had been the one to notice the little photo booth, and the seemingly endless amount of teenage civilian couples who had deposited small amounts of money outside of it, on order to disappear behind the black curtains and emerge about a minute later, giggling and clutching two identical strips of film, each with four separate photos on it.

It had taken quite a bit of effort, but she had dragged the highly irritated Itachi into the photo booth in question, loudly assuring him that it would be _fun._

She has her photo strip somewhere, carefully folded into her favorite novel and deposited at the bottom of her bag. She had assumed Itachi had burned his at the soonest possible opportunity.

She had been wearing a bright yellow summer dress, and had somehow convinced Itachi to abandon his usual black-and-gray wardrobe in order to purchase an absolutely _gorgeous _emerald green, elbow-sleeved shirt – which might have been why he was in such a bad mood that day. The first three frames consist of her shooting coy, adorable looks and poses at the camera, while simultaneously attempting to force Itachi to do something besides glare murderously at it. The last frame captured the exact moment that Sakura had given up hope, pounced on the shocked Itachi's lap, and planted a very affectionate kiss on his lips.

(_"I love you, Itachi-kun!_" she had proclaimed loudly and mischievously, wrapping her arms around his neck as tightly as possible, and Itachi had practically clawed at her back and ordered her to _get off_ in his most frightening tone – the resulting struggle had nearly knocked both of them off the tiny bench in the photo booth and onto the floor.)

Sakura glances away from the picture – looking at it is hurting her too much, but next to it…is her glove. And her engagement ring.

The photo, glove, and ring would be the last thing he sees every night, and the first thing he sees every morning.

She tries to keep it at bay, but at that moment, every development of the past month catches up to her, in what has to be the most delayed reaction of all time. The physical, mental, and emotional stress and exhaustion of the past five days, losing Itachi, leaving Konoha for good this time, resigning as a kunoichi for life, missing Naruto and Sasuke and her friends, missing Itachi so much that it hurts; knowing that she was stupid enough to let Itachi go, and…never, _ever _thinking that this would hurt him so much.

Sakura isn't fully aware of collapsing down onto the pillow, but some part of her does register reaching out, taking the ring in a hand that trembles slightly, and then slipping it onto her finger.

And only then does the pink-haired former kunoichi allow herself to cry herself to sleep.

-

She wakes the second that he takes a seat next to her, fifteen minutes later.

Itachi looks like he's just seen a ghost, and Sakura catches him a fraction of a moment before his fingertips make contact with the chilled, damp skin of her face.

The impact of her embrace, as Sakura sits up so fast that she nearly sprains her back and then literally throws herself at the stunned Uchiha, is enough to knock both of them almost flat on the bed.

"I'm sorry," she says, as fast as she can, holding him tight and burying her face in his shoulder, and for a moment, Sakura feels so overwhelmed by emotion that she could swear that she's sixteen years old again and telling Itachi that she loved him, for the first time. "I'm an idiot – there are no words to describe it—"

Itachi has always been a man of actions rather than words, and without sparing even another second, he buries his fingers in her hair roughly, pulling her face up to his, before crushing their lips together, hard.

-

Afterward, Sakura closes her eyes as she curls up against him trustingly, and Itachi quietly brushes a few stray strands of hair out of her face and behind one ear. His fingers brush against her forehead, and then he carefully runs them through her hair. It is then, as he silently reminisces about the past hour, that he realizes what is missing about her – that, at any point, he didn't have to pull that bright red length of ribbon, tied to her forehead protector, free of Sakura's long hair, or struggle to untie it from her forehead without accidentally pulling a few locks of hair and making her yelp.

Itachi is unnerved enough by the conclusions that he is drawing that he pulls his hand back suddenly, as if burned. "Sakura," he says abruptly, regardless of how asleep she looks. "What did you do?"

Sakura blinks up at him blearily, before sitting up and pulling a pillow to her chest. Itachi is eyeing her quite suspiciously, and, well, she had expected him to notice earlier, but in all fairness, the two of them had been rather…distracted. "What do you think?" she asks evenly.

Itachi looks more than a little disconcerted. "…Why?" he finally replies, appearing to be somewhat lost for words. "That was irrational and impulsive, Sakura – we could have made some arrangements to purchase a house in one of Konoha's border towns—"

"Yeah, which would have worked perfectly for me," she retorts, "but how would you still manage to work with the Akatsuki from that far away?"

"It does not—"

"Yes, it does, Itachi!" Sakura replies sharply, fighting to keep her temper under control. "Look, it doesn't matter to me, all right? I made my choice. I'll always be a kunoichi here," – she touches her chest lightly – "if nowhere else, and that's all that I really need."

It takes a little while of tugging on his hand insistently, but Itachi finally relents, leaning against the headboard, even though he is far from relaxed. Sakura sighs softly and rests her head on his shoulder, placing one slender hand on his muscled upper arm. "Anything else you want to tell me?"

"It will become clear tomorrow."

Too tired to contest the ambiguous reply, Sakura yawns and slides down further into the bed. Itachi follows a little while after, seemingly casually wrapping an arm around her and drawing her closer to him, and she closes her eyes and smiles, and for the first time in what feels like forever, she sleeps well.

-

_The Next Morning_

-

It would be a lie to say that Sakura is not unsure about what will become of her future now that she has cast the one thing that had defined her most out of the window.

It's not that she regrets it, but – uncertainty is a rather dreadful feeling, and Sakura closes her eyes, stirring her cup of blueberry tea listlessly. Despite last night's words to Itachi; hell, she knows that it's probably an irrational feeling on her part, but it does feel like, through resigning as a kunoichi, she has lost a good part of her identity. All of her skills are still more than present, but…where will she go from here, and what will she do with herself?

There is a sudden thud of paper, solid enough to shake the entire kitchen table as it lands squarely in front of her, and Sakura looks up from her cup of tea, startled.

Pein looks down at her expressionlessly. "This assignment will be yours and yours alone, Sakura." Without waiting for a reply and ignoring her obvious confusion, he leans down and whisks the cover sheet off the thick stack of paper, exposing a glossy sheet of laminated paper featuring a large picture of an expansive, sprawling, at least six-story building.

"Rain currently does not have a hospital…or, in fact, any medical amenities save for a tiny clinic in a nearby border town." Pein points out, indicating the picture emotionlessly. "This is unacceptable. We have this building, and we have enough funds to purchase any resource that you find necessary. Your long-term mission will be to rectify the problem in question. Is that clear?"

Numb with shock, Sakura manages to nod once, and Pein sweeps out of the kitchen without another word.

From the privacy of the hallway, Itachi smirks a little as he watches Pein depart, and, now that she is certain that she is alone, Sakura literally collapses out of disbelief, burying her head in her arms.

"Impossible," she keeps mumbling, almost unable to believe whether that surreal encounter had really just happened or not. Pein's verbal assignments to them are all usually abrupt, concise, and blunt, but _this _had just been…weird. "Ridiculous. It's a dream come true."

Feeling more than a little pleased with himself, Itachi enters the kitchen quietly, placing one hand on his fiancée's head and ruffling her hair. "Surprise," he comments softly.

Sakura lifts her head and looks up at him, stunned. "…What?"

"I have been talking to him about it since before the coup." Itachi purrs, looking exquisitely amused. "I believed it would be an appropriate career for you. Give it a few years, Sakura, and you might be Rain's very own Tsunade."

The sentiment, the thought, and the sheer wonder of this unexpected opportunity makes Sakura's throat tighten a little. "I never thought it would all go down like this," she confesses in a rare moment of utter candidness, taking his hand in hers, and thinking of where this had all started, after Itachi's death and Danzou's takeover…and how her life has unfolded since then. "I never thought that this is how I would end up living my life."

She smiles a little at the guarded look on Itachi's face, and reaches out to pat his cheek gently. "I'm not saying that that's a bad thing, though."

-

_Four Months Later_

-

"Wow," Naruto says, as he stops in the middle of the small Zen garden in order to take in the view around him, looking utterly amazed. "This is nicer than _my _place, Sakura-chan! I can't believe you and Itachi are going to live here. Huh, maybe when I'm hideously old and decrepit and have to retire and stuff, I should move to Rain too…"

Sakura tries to shrug modestly, although it doesn't quite have the intended effect, as she is still admiring the place that, two days from now, she can finally call hers. The small, although airily structured and elegantly furnished house, complete with large, adjacent and separate Zen and water gardens, is a million times more serene and beautiful than she could ever have imagined even in her wildest dreams.

"_Consider it a little wedding present, of sorts,_" Konan had disclaimed mildly. "_As you can imagine, it isn't often that Pein and I receive the opportunity to spend Akatsuki funding on something as harmonious and pleasant as this." _

Sakura smiles at the thought, but Naruto misinterprets it, and elbows her in the side with a distinctly mischievous grin. "You're going to have a really hard time leaving here, right?"

Sakura blinks, looking back at him in confusion, as they continue their walk from the Zen garden over to the edge of the water garden. "What?"

Naruto glances over at her, narrowly avoiding tripping on a stray branch from one of the weeping willow trees that separate the gardens, all of which are in bloom. "Well, aren't you going to bring the kids back someday?" he asks, sounding equally confused. "For shinobi training and all – hell, you and Itachi's kids probably have the potential to be the most powerful shinobi in generations, and Rain is a civilian city. Besides, you and Itachi used to belong to Konoha, anyway, so it makes sense, doesn't it?"

"Oh," Sakura acknowledges, picking up one fallen purple blossom absentmindedly and tucking it behind her ear. It is cool in the shade of the willows – monsoon season is finally over and the incessant rain has stopped, but Rain never gets too warm, not even in spring and summer. "Well…honestly, I'm not too sure about that." In response to Naruto's downright aghast look, she nudges him playfully. "Just listen, all right?"

The topic had come up, quite by accident, a few weeks ago, after Pein and Konan had showed them the house for the first time. Sakura offhandedly commented about the number of bedrooms and had absentmindedly stated that there would be one for them, three for the children, one for any guest that happened to be stopping by, and yet another one that could be converted into a study for the both of them to work in.

Itachi had stopped dead, nearly crashing into a coffee table, and it was only then that Sakura realized her mistake, because _seriously_, what guy _wanted _to discuss the issue of children before they were even married?

"Sorry," she had apologized hastily, taking Itachi by the hand and dragging him into the spacious kitchen. "It doesn't matter, I wasn't thinking—"

For a few minutes, there had been nothing but awkward silence as Itachi made his way to the counter, detachedly opening drawers and observing the contents within. He had stopped at one in particular, staring down into it with an expression that could almost be described as tortured, and Sakura joined him just in time to see that the drawer was filled with knives, before he slammed it shut, turning his back to the counter and resting against it with a ragged breath. "I never thought that I would live long enough to have a family of my own," he said abruptly, curling his hand into a fist and looking down at it. "Sakura, I never want our children to have to take the life of another person."

Naruto blinks a few times, looking completely flabbergasted, as Sakura finishes relaying the story, looking down at the leaves beneath her feet as she does so. "…I guess it makes sense, since he was a born pacifist and all," he says slowly. "It's just – wow. They'll probably be the first Uchiha in history to ever live as civilians."

Sakura shrugs one shoulder, looking out at the lily-covered expanse of still water garden wistfully. "I respect his opinion – and we'll deal with that when we come to it."

Slowly recovering from his shock, Naruto sighs deeply, reaching one hand backwards in order to rub his neck. "Well," he says, giving her a rather cheesy grin. "I still can't believe that you're getting married in two days, Sakura-chan – to the dobe's older brother, no less." The Seventh Hokage's grin shrinks a few molars as he stands up on the tips of his toes, craning his neck in order to look around the expansive, shaded water garden. "…Where are they, anyway?"

Sakura elbows Naruto in the ribs, this time, silently nodding over to the very edge of the water farthest away from them. Itachi and Sasuke are sitting next to each other, immersed in quiet conversation while skipping pebbles out into the water – as they have been for the past three hours, ever since the small group of Konoha shinobi arrived on their 'mission of high diplomatic importance.' Naruto, Sasuke, Ino, and Shino had been the first to arrive – Ino, however, is busy doing a city-wide search for the most high-class cosmetic and styling products available, as she will be the one gifted with the honor of doing Sakura's hair and makeup two days from now, and Shino had been dispatched along to help her carry bags – and Lee, Tenten, and Kakashi should be coming at some point tomorrow.

As Sakura watches, she sees Sasuke smile again – _smile_, not smirk, which would definitely be a first for him, if he hadn't been caught in the act doing the same at least seven times earlier in the space of the same conversation – and, after a few moments, the expression is echoed on Itachi's face as well.

"Guh," Naruto articulates coherently, in yet another display of the wonderfully intellectual brilliance that had earned him the position of Seventh Hokage. "I think my brain just got scrambled." He kicks the dirt ruefully. "Seriously, Sakura-chan, I never thought I'd see the day."

"Neither did I," Sakura replies, still a little torn between amazement and pride. The two of them retreat back into the weeping willow borders, leaving the two Uchiha to themselves, and Rain's pink-haired medical director reaches up to catch a fragrant purple blossom that the breeze had torn free of its branch. "Everything is falling into place, isn't it?" she asks quietly, the words almost lost in the gentle rush of the breeze.

"Yeah," Naruto acknowledges wisely, sticking his hands into his pockets. "And it's about time."

-

_Two Days Later_

-

"Are you ready?"

Sakura swallows nervously, and Ino gives a slight huff of irritation. "Forehead Girl, I helped you pick out the most glorious wedding kimono in the history of Japan – except for mine, of course – _and _I just slaved away for hours and hours in order to do your hair and makeup. You had _better _be ready."

"Fine," Sakura acquiesces, closing her eyes for a moment.

In one smooth movement, Ino places her hands firmly on Sakura's shoulders, spinning her around in order to face the full-length mirror, and the blonde kunoichi whistles appreciatively. "Hot _damn_, Lady Uchiha."

"Not yet," Sakura manages, staring, wide-eyed, at her reflection, whom she doesn't quite recognize, between the exquisite scarlet, pink, and silver kimono, heavily kohl-rimmed and emerald-shadowed eyes, and elaborately arranged long cascades of hair, completed with delicate silver ornaments. "One more hour. And _kami_, Ino, you've outdone yourself."

Ino fusses with the sleeves of her own simple, yet elegant periwinkle-blue kimono, looking as distinctly overemotional as Sakura had looked at _her _wedding. "I'm so happy for you, Sakura," she manages, fanning herself and looking somewhat overwrought. "You have no idea."

For a few long moments, the two lifelong best friends, now separated by distance and alliances, though nothing else, stand beside each other, watching their reflections in the mirror, and at last, Ino sighs softly. "Did you ever think that our friendship, and everything in general, would lead us to this point?"

Unable to bring herself to be surprised at the way Ino has just read her mind, Sakura smiles a little. "Not in my wildest dreams…Lady Aburame. But," – she offers Ino her arm, and the other woman takes it courteously, as they begin to walk out of the dressing room – "…honestly, I can't bring myself to regret one single thing."

Ino smiles as well, a little wistfully, remembering the little pink-haired five-year-old girl, burdened with such crippling insecurities and low self-esteem – and look where that little girl is, now. "…I'm proud of you, Forehead Girl," she declares, with a proud toss of her long blonde mane. "I don't think you know how far you've come."

"I think I do – but…I'm proud of you too, Ino-pig. Seriously."

"…Thanks, Sakura. _Now_!" Ino declares forcefully, tightening her grip on Sakura's arm. "Are you ready to go out there and get married?"

Sakura winces a little, but she is unable to hide the humorous tilt of her lips. "Never more than right now."

-

_Later That Night_

-

The ceremony had been so many different kinds of surreal that it was nearly overwhelming.

Even now, so many hours later, Itachi is almost unable to wrap his mind around the fact that, after so long, and against all odds, he and Sakura are…married. He struggles with the thought, still, but in the past four years, both of them have defied fate in every way possible.

Sakura is nestled contentedly under several layers of blankets, all of which are pulled just high enough to cover her chest. Itachi observes the gentle rise and fall of her bare shoulders, and…it has been four years, now – enough so that every day is not spent reflecting in some way about the fact that, if not for some downright uncanny twist of fate, he would still be dead, and Sakura—

For the longest time after his revival, he had been unable to appreciate the second chance at life that he had been given.

And then came Sakura.

She had disrupted everything, and made him _feel_ more intensely than he had in years. At the risk of sounding theatrical and overdramatic, after Shisui, Itachi had never envisioned himself loving another – he had no reason to live, save for redeeming Sasuke.

It is strange, though. When he had been younger, before his death, he had never allowed himself to think about all of the opportunities in life that he would never experience – to be part of a love story that didn't have a horribly tragic ending, for instance, or the idea of someday getting married and devoting his life to protecting another.

And now, this…

Itachi smiles, a little ironically, reaching out and carefully tracing the contours of Sakura's face with the lightest touch possible.

For the first time, he is looking forward to living his life, and for the first time, Itachi can actually envision the life that he will live, spread out so clearly before him that it almost seems ethereal. A long, happy, and completely peaceful life – spent at the side of Sakura and, someday, their children. And, also for the first time, he is just a little bit impatient, because there is so much that he wants to see and experience, with her, and—

Sakura stirs beneath his touch, fighting to open her eyes, and her long pink eyelashes flutter a few times as she looks up at him incredulously. Her makeup, so precisely and carefully applied, had become completely smudged during their earlier activities, but she is still beautiful enough to make Itachi's breath catch in his chest for a moment. "What are you doing?" she asks bluntly, rubbing her eyes. "You should be tired…"

"Just thinking," Itachi replies quietly, brushing a few tangled locks of hair against her forehead, and even after so long, the touch and gesture still sends a few delightful shivers up and down Sakura's spine.

Still, Sakura pushes herself up into a sitting position, before twining her arms around Itachi and pulling him back down with her, and remembering his strange propensity for nighttime thinking sessions from all the way back when they had first met, when she had just been fifteen. "You think too much, Itachi," she assures him firmly, wrapping one arm around his chest and resting her head on his shoulder, already closing her eyes again. "There's going to be enough time for that, later…"

Sakura lapses back into sleep, but Itachi stares up at the ceiling, gently caressing her back. Through the heavy, dark green curtains, he can see that dawn is breaking, replacing the previous darkness with the palest blades of faded golden sunlight.

He loves Sakura, yes, but she is wrong on this one; still, Itachi turns toward her a fraction of an inch, so that the fragrant pink strands of her hair tickle his nose, and he savors every slight sensation – the feel of her hair, her skin, and even the thought of how she will glare at him and maybe even slam him in the face with a pillow, when he invariably butchers her morning waffles in a few hours, as he always ends up doing.

It is dawn, and there is no time to sleep, when there is so much to see. (to live.)

* * *

_the end._

* * *

I would like to thank each and every one of you for reading, and for your support. To those of you who have reviewed, you've not only given me encouragement to keep writing, but a lot of your kind words, encouragement, support, and prayers got me through the most difficult time of my life – and for that, I can never thank you enough.

I hope that you guys have had as much fun reading this as I had while writing it. :) I've actually planned for this ending all along, but if anyone found it objectionable or had any questions or comments, feel free to ask, and I'll do my best to reply through the little review reply feature.

Again, thank you for reading, and any and all feedback would be very much appreciated. :)


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